} 


\ 


VIOLA; 


0B» 


ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  SOUTH-WEST 


BY  EMERSON  BENNETT, 

AUTHOR  OF   "CLARA  MORELAND,"   "THE  FORGED  WILL,"  "THK 
PIONEER'S  DAUGHTER,"    "  WALDE- WARREN/'  ETC.,  ETC. 


"We  consider  this  altogether  the  best  fiction  which  Mr.  Bennett  has  yet  written.  In 
Baying  this,  we  pay  him  the  highest  possible  compliment,  as  he  has  long  been  one  of  the 
most  popular  of  American  novelists.  His  publisher  has  done  every  thing  that  was  possi- 
ble to  add  to  the  public  desire  for  the  work,  having  issued  it  in  a  very  handsome  style,  so 
that  its  dress  might  not  disgrace  its  merits.  Viola  is  destined  to  have  an  immense  sale  " 
— Ladies'  National  Magazine. 

"  It  is  written  with  a  great  deal  of  spirit ;  it  abounds  in  stirring  incidents  and  adven- 
tures, has  a  go'd  love-plot  interwoven  with  it,  and  is  a  faithful  representation  of  Life  in 
the  Far  South- West.  Mr.  Bennett  is  destined  to  great  popularity,  especially  at  the  South 
and  West.  His  publisher  has  issued  tliis  book  in  a  very  handsome  style." — Philaddphia 
Svening  BulUtin. 


|)  I)  X I  a  b  ie  I  p  f)  i  a : 
T.    B.    PETERSON    AND    BROTHERS, 

306    CHESTNUT    STREET. 


Ektewd  aGCO>dmg:to  A-Ct-of  dongreaSv  in  the  year  1852,  by 

EMERSON    BENNETT, 

In  the  Clork's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States, 
in  aud  for  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


TO 

JAMES   W.    NEWLIN,    ESQ., 

OF  PHILADELPHIA, 

THIS    STORY,    " 

IS    SINCERELY    INSCRIBED, 


(7; 
W69512 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Mtbelt, 11 

CHAPTER  II. 
A  Strange  Companion,  and  a  Startling  Incident, - 18 

CHAPTER  III. 
Ludicrous  and  Mtsterious, 32 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Hablet,  44 

CHAPTER  V. 
Viola, 52 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Perplexity  and  Mystery, 62 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Disguise, 75 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Incidents, 83 

CHAPTER  IX. 
In  Love, 91, 

CHAPTER  X 
Thb  By-boad lOS 

1*  (9) 


10  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
More  Mystery, 112 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Suspicions  and  Certainties, 120 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

D'ESTANG  ViLLE 128 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Mistress  Anne, 140 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Mysteries  of  the  Tower, 150 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  Noble  Prisoner, 166 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
A  Disclosure, 180 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  Escape, 193 

CHAPTER  XIX 
The  Attack 204 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Conclusion, 214 


VIOLA; 


ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  SOUTH-WEST. 


CHAPTER  L  . 

MYSELF. 

"  Away  !  away !  away !  three  cheers  for  freedom  !  and 
ho  for  the  sunny  South  !" 

Such  was  my  mental  exclamation,  as  I  stood  on  the 
hurricane  deck  of  one  of  the  finest  and  fastest  of  those 
grand  "  floating  palaces"  of  the  West,  and  beheld  the 
beautiful  city  of  Louisville,  Kentucky,  receding  from  my 
view.  I  could  have  shouted  aloud  for  joy — I  felt  such  ar- 
dent exultation.  I  was  just  in  the  prime  of  life,  full  of 
romance,  in  good  health,  in  glorious  spirits,  and  bound  for 
adventure.  I  was  free,  free  as  the  winds  of  heaven,  to 
roam  wheresoever  my  fancy  inclined.  More  than  a  month 
had  elapsed  since  I  had  bidden  adieu  to  my  friends  iu  the 
Old  Dominion,  and  the  first  keen  pang  of  separation  was 
now  over.  Not  that  I  had  forgotten  those  I  had  left  be- 
hind me — oh,  no — memory  of  them  could  only  cease  with 
death ;  but  the  pain  of  parting  was  beginning  to  be  dulled 
by  absence,  and  I  felt  like  enjoying  the  present  with  my 

(11) 


12  VIOLA. 


whole  soul,  and  trusting  to  God  for  the  future.  That 
future  !  that  unrecorded  point  of  time  !  shut  in  by  a  veil 
through  which  no  mortal  eye  can  penetrate  ! — could  I  then 
have  seen  it — could  I  then  have  known — But  let  me  not 
anticipate. 

From  my  youth  up,  I  had  longed  for  novelty — to  travel — - 
to  go  abroad  and  see  the  world  for  myself — and  now  the 
great  desire  of  my  life  was  being  gratified.  And  so  it 
would  have  been  years  before,  could  I  have  had  my  own 
way  ;  but  I  was  under  age,  and  my  father  inexorable. 

"Wait,  sir!"  he  would  say,  whenever  I  advanced  the 
pj-oposition.:  .*vyx)U  .are  a  boy  yet — a  foolish  boy — and 
don't  know  your  own  mind.  Wait,  sir,  till  you  have  at- 
tained ycur  majority ;  and  then  you  will  be  your  own 
master,  and  can  do  as  you  please." 

"And  depend  upon  it,  father,"  I  would  reply,  not  alto- 
gether in  the  most  amiable  mood — "  depend  upon  it,  I  shall 
make  good  use  of  my  freedom  !" 

And  here,  reader,  as  I  trust  we  are  to  make  a  pleasant 
pilgrimage  together,  it  may  be  as  well  that  you  know  some- 
thing of  one  who  is  to  be  your  companion.  I  know  nothing 
of  you,  it  is  true ;  but  I  see  no  good  reason  why  you  should 
be  alike  ignorant  of  myself — more  especially  as  I  am  ex- 
tremely anxious  to  get  into  your  good  graces  at  the  start. 
I  will  not  detain  you  long,  for  I  abhor  a  family  yarn,  spun 
out  to  the  length  and  with  the  minuteness  of  the  log  of  a 
three  years'  cruiser ;  and  besides,  we  shall  have  amusement 
and  adventure  enough  on  our  journey,  to  fully  occupy  our 
time.  Without  more  circumlocution,  consider  yourself 
seized  by  the  button. 

In  the  first  place,  let  me  tell  you,  that  we  in  the  "  Old 
Dominion,"  have  a  certain  affinity  to  the  moon — insomuch 
as,  in  no  small  degree,  we  shine  by  reflected  light — or,  in 
other  words,  our  standard  of  respectability  is  established 


MYSELF.  13 


by  our  ancestors  ;  and  as  the  gre^t  majority  of  us  are  all 
of  the  ^' first  families,"  the  precedence  of  superiority  is 
only  accorded  to  the  longest  lineage.  In  this  regard,  if  in 
no  other,  I  am  about  as  respectable  an  acquaintance,  of 
home  production,  as  you  will  be  likely  to  find.  I  genea- 
logically belong  to  that  honorable  class  of  individuals, 
known  as  the  Cavaliers,  who  migrated  to  this  country  in 
the  time  of  Cromwell ;  and  therefore,  when  at  home,  I 
boast  of  the  best  blood  of  Old  Virginia — though  abroad  I 
find  it  just  as  well  to  say  nothing  about  it. 

My  father  inherited  the  name  of  Walton,  and,  at  the 
death  of  his  father,  an  estate  worth  fifty  thousand  dollars, 
exclusive  of  blacks  enough  to  work  the  plantation — so  that 
in  the  good  things  of  this  world,  it  may  be  said  he  had  a 
very  fair  share  at  the  start.  He  married-  an  estimable  and 
accomplished  lady,  who  bore  him  three  children — two 
daughters,  and  your  humble  servant.  Alas  !  to  give  me 
life,  her  own  was  sacrificed,  and  therefore  I  never  enjoyed 
the  blessing  of  beholding  my  lamented  mother.  My  infancy 
was  taken  charge  of  by  a  black  nurse  ;  and  as  I  grew  in 
years  and  knowledge,  my  afi'ections  were  pretty  equally 
divided  between  Old  Moll,  as  we  termed  her,  and  my  near- 
est kin.  If  I  was  in  trouble,  who  so  ready  to  listen  to  my 
childish  sorrows  as  Old  Moll  ?  and  who  so  ready  with  kind 
and  soothing  words  ?  If  I  wanted  a  particular  favor  of 
my  father.  Old  Moll  was  the  medium  through  which  I  ob- 
tained it.  If  I  was  guilty  of  a  wrong  action,  and  my 
father  sought  to  correct  me,  you  should  have  seen  Old 
Moll  interpose  her  black,  burly  figure  between  me  and  my 
paternal  ancestor,  and  beg  me  off"  with  some  such  words  as 
these : 

"  N-n-now  don't  please,  Massa  Wal'on,  dis  time,  don*t ! 
Little  Hal  not  well :  'deed  and  'deed  he  berry  sick,  massa  !-^ 
he  cotch  eber  so  much  cold  all  last  night,  de  poor  chile !— 


14  VIOLA. 


'sides,  massa,  he  got  'flammatory  information  of  de  stomach, 
de  bowels,  de  congections  ;  and  he  neber  do  so  agin,  no 
more,  I  pledge  you  my  word  'n  honor,  true  as  gospel  I" 
and  seeing  the  least  relentment  on  the  part  of  my  father, 
she  would  generally  establish  a  peace,  by  catching  me  up 
into  her  arms  and  beating  a  hasty  retreat  from  the  seat  of 
war. 

I  did  not  always  escape  unscathed,  it  is  true;  for  some- 
times the  ridiculous  pleadings  of  Molly  made  me  laugh  out- 
right ;  and  then  I  generally  got  the  punishment  I  deserved. 
Poor  Old  Moll !  how  I  loved  her  !  and  even  now  I  recall 
her  good-natured  ebony  visage,  with  tears  in  my  eyes. 

As  the  reader  has,  doubtless,  anticipated,  I  was  christened 
Henry ;  but  for  a  long  time  I  answered  to  no  other  appel- 
lation than  Hal,  generally  with  the  adjective,  little,  pre- 
fixed ;  and  to  this  day,  with  a  stature  of  nearly  six  feet, 
and  a  weight  of  thirteen  stone,  the  elder  citizens  of  Swans- 
down  would  never  think  of  greeting  me  save  as  Little  Hal. 
Among  ray  playmates  and  schooll-fellows,  I  was  sometimes 
termed  Harry ;  but  they  generally  adopted  the  shortest 
nick-name ;  and  as  for  Henry,  I  never  heard  myself  ad- 
dressed so  but  once,  and  then  by  a  very  staid,  precise,  and 
venerable  Methodist  preacher.  For  the  matter  of  being 
called  Henry,^I  might  as  well  have  been  christened  Bar- 
tholomew, Nicodemus,  or  Nebuchadnezzar. 

As  for  my  education,  it  was  tolerably  fair,  as  the  world 
goes.  I  was  never  much  of  a  book-worm  :  but  I  could 
fence,  box,  wrestle,  dance,  run,  jump,  ride  a  horse,  shoot 
a  rifle,  and  play  whist  or  the  fiddle,  billiards  or  the  banjo, 
with  the  best  of  them,  I  fear  the  reader  will  think  none 
the  better  of  me  for  these  "  vanity- fair"  accomplishments  ; 
but  I  must  speak  the  truth,  and  console  myself  with  the 
reflection,  that  if  he  don't  like  me  as  I  am,  it  is  a  very 
easy  matter  for  him  to  cut  my  acquaintance.     As  to  per- 


MYSELF.  .15 


sonal  appearance,  Old  Moll  always  asseverated,  that  "young 
Massa  Wal'on  was  jest  de  hamsomest  buck  in  all  Wargin'a," 
which  was  equivalent  to  saying  in  all  the  world,  for  her 
geographical  knowledge  extended  not  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  Old  Dominion.  As  I  never  disputed  her  on  this  point 
when  at  home,  I  see  no  good  reason  for  quarrelling  with  her 
opinion  now  that  we  are  separated. 

My  twenty-first  anniversary,  I  flatter  myself,  was  cele- 
brated in  a  style  worthy  of  my  ancestors  and  their  de- 
scendants. The  next  day  I  felt  unwell,  and  kept  my  bed ; 
the  second  I  was  convalescent,  much  to  my  own  delight 
and  Old  Moll's,  who,  out  of  pure  kindness,  would  have 
killed  me  in  a  week  with  soups  and  gruel.  My  father  now 
called  me  into  the  library,  and  said : 

"  Well,  Hal,  you  are  free  ;  and  at  my  banker's,  in  Rich- 
mond, you  will  find  ten  thousand  dollars  deposited  to  your 
order.     Is  that  satisfactory  ?" 

*'  It  will  do  for  the  present,"  I  answered. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  intend  to  set  yourself  about  first  ?" 

"  Packing  my  trunks ;  paying  my  score,  and  takijig  leave 
of  my  friends." 

"You  are  determined  to  go  abroad,  then?" 

"  With  your  permission." 

"  I  have  no  control  over  you  now.  But  for  what  part 
of  the  world  are  you  bound?" 

"  I  have  not  yet  decided." 

"  Well,  my  son,  may  the  good  God  watch  over,  and 
heaven's  blessings  attend  you!"  and  my  father  walked  out 
of  the  library  at  a  quicker  pace  than  usual. 

In  a  week  every  thing  was  prepared  for  my  jourrtey,  and 
one  fine  morning  I  found  myself  taking  leave  of  my  friends. 
The  trial  was  more  severe  than  I  had  anticipated — but  I 
was  not  one  to  falter  in  my  resolution.  I  shook  hands  all 
round,  and  spoke  the  parting  words  in  as  strong  a  voice  as 


l6  VIOLA. 


I  could  command.  I  felt  a  choking  in  my  throat,  and  I 
tried  to  choke  it  down,  but  that  only  made  it  worse.  My 
father  hemmed,  coughed,  tried  to  sneeze,  and  finally  ended 
by  applying  his  handkerchief  to  his  nasal  organ,  and  mut- 
tering something  about  having  caught  a  severe  cold.  My 
sisters  wept — the  blacks  generally  blubbered — but  as  for 
poor  Old  Moll,  she  yelled  outright  with  hysterical  emotion, 
and  declared  her  old  heart  was  "  just  broke  into  twenty 
hundred  pieces,"  and  that  "she'd  die  'trait  off  'fore  de  broke 
of  'nudder  day." 

At  last  I  was  off;  and  the  rumble  of  the  vehicle,  that 
bore  me  swiftly  away  from  the  scenes  of  boyhood — from 
the  scenes  that  I  loved — from  home  and  its  associations — 
seemed  to  strike  on  my  heart  like  a  death  knell.  I  lay 
back  in  the  carriage ;  and  now  that  there  were  none  to 
witness  my  emotion,  I  gave  full  vent  to  my  pent  up  feel- 
ings, and  paid  a  tribute  to  the  past,  and  the  friends  behind 
me,  in  a  flood  of  tears. 

On  quitting  my  native  land,  I  took  with  me  one  living 
remembrancer  of  by-gones,  in  the  shape  of  a  stout,  healthy, 
good  tempered  negro  servant.  I  had  selected  Tom  for 
several  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  he  was  about  my  own 
age,  and  had  long  served  a*-  as  a  valet  de  chamhre ;  we 
had  become  mutually  attached;  and  though  some  may 
smile  to  hear  the  assertion,  yet  it  is  no  less  true,  we  loved 
each  other  as  brothers,  but  without  overstepping  the  nicely 
drawn  line  of  distinction  between  master  and  slave.  In 
the  second  place,  Tom  was  shrewd,  intelligent,  though 
negrofied,  and  knew  exactly  how  to  humor  me.  In  the 
third  place,  he  was  not  unlike  myself,  bold,  daring,  fear- 
less, and  had  besides  a  rich  vein  of  humor  running  through 
his  ebony  composition.  In  the  fourth  place,  like  the  law- 
yer's sixteen  reasons,  each  one  of  which  was  conclusive,  I 
30uld  not  do  without  him. 


MYSELF.  17 


And  now,  having  introduced  myself  to  you,  reader,  with 
such  little  etcetera  as  I  have  deemed  proper,  if  you  like 
me  well  enough  to  accept  me  for  a  travelling  companion, 
rest  assured  it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  we  do  not  part 
friends  at  the  end  of  the  journey. 


CHAPTER  11. 

A    STRANGE   COMPANION,    AND   A   STARTLING   INCIDENT. 

As  I  have  said  in  the  opening  of  this  narrative,  that  more 
than  a  month  had  elapsed  since  bidding  farewell  to  my 
friends,  I  have  not  thought  best  to  trouble  the  reader  with 
any  detail  of  my  journey  thus  far,  more  especially  as  no 
incidents  occurred  on  my  way  hither  worthy  of  note.  Con- 
sider me  therefore  still  on  the  hurricane  deck  of  the  Nep- 
tune, and  bound  for  a  southern  clime. 

It  was  a  clear,  delightful  ^morning,  in  the  beginning  of 
September,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1845.  The  sun  had 
risen  in  golden  splendor,  and  now  shone  brightly  down 
upon  the  glassy  bosom  of  La  Belle  Riviere,  whose  surface 
was  like  a  mirror,  save  where  the  rushing  steamer  threw 
up  a  silvery  spray,  and  sent  a  hundred  tiny  wavelets  danc- 
ing to  the  shore.  A  soft  south  breeze,  sweeping  over  the 
green  hills  of  old  Kentucky,  gently  fanned  my  brow,  and 
gave  me  invigorating  relief  from  the  recent  heats  of  sum- 
mer. I  was,  as  I  have  said,  in  an  exulting  mood ;  and  as 
I  stood  and  gazed  upon  the  green  shores,  and  beheld  here 
and  there  a  picturesque  hamlet,  on  either  land,  I  felt  as  if 
I  could  love  every  body,  and  every  thing ;  and  I  poured 
forth  my  gratitude  in  a  silent  prayer  to  the  great  Giver  of 
all  good. 

At  length  I  turned  to  descend  to  the  cabin,  when  I  espied 
my  servant  approaching  me,  accompanied  by  a  very  gen- 
teel young  man,  dressed  in  black. 

"  Dat  massa,"  said  Tom,  pointing  to  me ;  and  then,  as 

(18) 


A   STRANGE  COMPANION.  19 

if  his  mission  were  finished,  he  made  a  low  bow,  and  dis- 
appeared. 

The  stranger  approached  me  with  a  smile,  a  slight  in- 
clination of  the  head,  and  holding  out  his  hand,  said  ; 

"  Mr.  Walton,  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  the  pleasure  of 
renewing  our  acquaintance;"  and  then  perceiving  by  my 
look  and. manner  that  he  was  not  recognized,  he  added; 
"  You  have  forgotten  me,  I  see ;  but  we  have  met  before, 
far  away  from  this.  My  name  is  Harley — Morton  Harley, 
at  your  service." 

I  now  remembered  that  one  night  at  a  ball  in  Swans- 
down,  I  had  been  introduced  to  a  stranger  of  that  name ; 
and  I  cheerfully  made  known  my  recognition,  and  cordially 
shook  his  hand ;  for  the  very  fact  that  he  had  been  once 
in  the  village  of  my  nativity,  made  him  appear  to  me  like 
an  old  and  valued  friend. 

"  But  how  did  you  learn  of  my  being  aboard  ?"  I  in- 
quired. 

"  I  saw  your  name  on  your  baggage  below,  and  made  in- 
quiry of  your  servant ;  and  it  is  with  no  affectation  that  I 
say,  I  am  rejoiced  to  meet  you  here.  But  tell  me,  Mr. 
Walton,  whither  are  you  bound  ?" 

"  That  the  future  can  alone  determine,"  I  replied,  gaily ; 
"  my  present  destination  is  New  Orleans." 

"  Then  you  have  fixed  on  nothing  beyond  the  Crescent 
city." 

"  Not  positively,  though  I  have  a  leaning  toward  Mex- 
ico. But  I  am  free  to  go  whithersoever  my  will  inclines ; 
and  so  I  have  plenty  of  adventure,  I  little  care  in  what 
part  of  the  world  I  find  it." 

"Your  hand,  Mr.  Walton  !"  said  Harley  almost  enthu- 
siastically. "  I  trust  we  shall  ever  be  friends,  and  long 
be  travelling  companions,  I  too  am  for  adventure — for 
novelty — for    seeing    strange    places — strange   faces — in 


20  VIOLA. 


short,  for  anything  that  will  drive  from  my  mind — "  He 
stopped  suddenly,  a  strange,  dark,  melancholy  expression 
swept  over  his  pale  features,  and  merely  saying,  "Excuse 
me  !  I  am  not  well,"  he  wheeled  on  his  heel,  and  disap- 
peared down  the  stairs  leading  to  the  oabin-guard. 

I  was  so  surprised  by  his  singular  manner,  that  I  stood 
staring  after  him  for  several  moments,  before  the  idea  re- 
curred to  me  that  perhaps  he  was  really  ill,  and  that  it  was 
my  duty  to  follow  and  tender  my  services.  I  hurried  down 
to  the  cabin,  and  looked  eagerly  among  the  passengers,  but 
nowhere  beheld  the  object  of  my  search.  Perceiving  my 
servant  seated  on  a  trunk,  I  hurried  up  to  him. 

"  Tom,"  I  said,  "  did  that  gentleman  you  conducted  to 
me,  just  now,  enter  the  cabin  ?" 

"  Didn't  see  him,  massa." 

"  Go  out  on  the  guards,  and  see  if  you  can  find  him ! 
Make  haste,  and  let  me  know,  for  the  gentleman  is  ill." 

Tom  hurried  away  to  execute  my  orders,  but  soon  re- 
turned, and  in  his  peculiar  way  reported  the  gentleman 
was  not  to  be  found, 

" This  is  strange  !"  I  mused — "very  strange  !" 

An  idea  struck  me ;  and  hastening  to  the  clerk's  oiSce, 
I  requested  to  know  the  number  of  Morton  Harley's  state- 
room. The  clerk  looked  over  the  register,  and  replied 
that  there  was  no  such  name  entered  on  the  book.  Still 
more  surprised  than  ever,  I  went  down  stairs,  and  care- 
fully searched  the  deck  from  bow  to  stern,  but  found  no 
trace  of  Morton  Harley.  I  returned  to  the  cabin,  and  sent 
Tom  to  the  hurricane  deck,  thinking  it  not  improbable 
Harley  had  gone  back  to  find  me.  But  all  search  proved 
vain,  my  new  acquaintance  had  suddenly  and  mysteriously 
disappeared,  and  there  was  none  to  give  me  the  least  clue 
to  his  whereabouts.  I  felt  vexed  and  uneasy — vexed,  that 
he  should  leave  me  so  abruptly — uneasy,  lest  something 


A   STRANGE   COMPANION. 


serious  had  befallen  him.  Perhaps  he  has  fallen  overboard 
and  been  drowned,  I  said  to  myself;  and  my  spirits,  but 
now  so  buoyant,  became  greatly  depressed  in  consequence. 
At  dinner  I  noted  every  man  that  took  his  seat  at  the  ta- 
ble— at  supper  I  did  the  same — but  the  face  of  Harley  was 
not  among  them.  I  then  questioned  the  steward  and  other 
servants,  if  there  were  any  one  sick  about  the  boat — but 
all  my  answers  were  in  the  negative. 

This  completely  quenched  the  last  faint  spark  of  hope  I 
had  of  ever  beholding  Harley  again ;  and  seating  myself 
b;  me  of  the  now  cleared  tables,  in  the  forward  part  of 
tlj.  cabin,  I  rested  my  head  upon  my  hand,  and  gave  way 
to  a  gloomy  reverie. 

How  long  I  sat  there,  lost  to  everything  around  me,  I 
do  not  know ;  but  I  was  finally  aroused  to  a  consciousness 
of  passing  events,  by  some  one  touching  me  on  the  shoul- 
der, and  saying,  in  a  bland  tone  : 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir,  for  disturbing  you — but  we  have  just 
made  up  a  party  of  whist,  and  all  the  tables  forward  are 
occupied." 

I  started,  as  if  suddenly  awakened  from  a  dream,  and, 
by  a  hasty  glance  around,  perceived  that  the  eyes  of  seve- 
ral gentlemen  were  fixed  upon  me.  Understanding  more 
from  their  looks,  than  the  words  of  the  speaker — which  I 
had  heard,  but  only  partially  comprehended — that  they  re- 
quired the  table  for  their  game,  I  arose,  made  a  slight  in- 
clination of  the  head,  and  passed  out  of  the  cabin  upon 
the  guards. 

The  night  was  clear  and  serene,  and  the  azure  vault  of 
heaven  was  sparkling  with  thousands  on  thousands  of  those 
bright,  mysterious  luminaries  of  other  worlds.  I  say  mys- 
terious, for  none  living  have  yet  been  able  to  soar  to  their 
far  ofi"  abodes,  on  the  wings  of  science,  and  make  known 
their  organization  and  design. — Poets  have  imagined,  phi- 

2* 


22  VIOLA. 


losophers  have  reasoned,  and  theologians  have  asserted, 
these  worlds  to  be  what  was  most  in  accordance  with  their 
varying  idiosyncrasies;  but  neither  the  imagination  of  the 
first,  the  reasoning  of  the  second,  nor  the  assertions  of  the 
third,  have  established  a  single  fact  in  regard  to  them. 
There  they  shine,  as  they  have  shone  for  centuries — for 
ages — the  great,  incomprehensible  work  of  Him  that  was 
before  chaos,  that  will  be  forever.  Science,  which  mea- 
sures the  sun,  the  moon,  the  earth,  and  all  the  planets — ■ 
which  tells  us  their  distance  from  us  and  each  other — the 
time  of  their  revolutions — the  velocity  with  which  they 
travel  through  space — is  utterly  futile  when  brought  to 
bear  upon  them ;  and  man,  with  all  his  boasted  knowledge, 
when  he  seriously  contemplates  them,  becomes  bewildered 
and  lost  in  the  boundless  region  of  speculation.  What 
they  are,  and  what  their  design,  we  shall  never  know  in 
time — eternity,  perhaps,  will  reveal  the  great  secret. 

I  turned  my  eyes  to  the  starry  firmament,  and  gazed  up- 
on it  for  more  than  an  hour,  in  that  peculiar  frame  of  mind 
I  have  attempted  to  describe.  A  cool  night-breeze  fanned 
my  heated  temples,  and  gave  relief  to  my  aching  brow ; 
and  the  hoarse  steam-notes  of  the  rushing  vessel,  and  the 
rippling  of  the  waters  beneath,  fell  on  my  ear  with  a  kind 
of  monotonous  melody,  that  at  length  made  me  drowsy.  I 
arose,  and  after  glancing  at  the  placid  river,  the  lights 
here  and  there  dancing  on  its  dark  bosom,  the  dim  and  un- 
defined shores,  I  sought  my  state  room,  and  a  sweet  sleep, 
and  a  dream  of  home,  proved  a  happy  oblivion  to  the  mor- 
bid excitement  of  the  day. 

I  arose  on  the  following  morning,  greatly  refreshed  in 
body  and  mind.  As  I  was  about  sitting  down  to  break- 
fast, a  hand  was  laid  familiarly  on  my  shoulder.  I  turned, 
and  judge  of  my  astonishment,  on  beholding  Harley  stand- 
ing by  my  side.     For  a  moment  or  two  I  was  too  much 


STRANGE   COMPANION.  23 


surprised  to  speak  ;  and  in  that  short  space  of  time  I  sur- 
veyed his  person  and  features  more  minutely  than  ever 
before.  As  he  is  destined  to  figure  conspicuously  in  my 
narrative,  a  brief  description  of  his  appearance  and  cha- 
racteristics may  not  here  be  deemed  improper. 

In  person  he  was  slender,  and  slightly  made — though  in 
reality  he  possessed  a  muscular  power  that  belied  his  looks. 
His  stature  was  about  five  feet  ten  inches,  and  his  age 
some  three  or  four  and  twenty,  with  an  almost  beardless 
chin,  that  made  him  appear  boyish  and  effeminate.  His 
features  were  regular  and  intellectual,  but  lacked  what  may 
be  termed  manly  beauty.  His  face  was  long  and  thin, 
with  a  prominent  nose,  that  was  neither  Roman,  Grecian, 
nor  aquiline,  and  yet  to  a  certain  degree  partook  of  each. 
His  mouth  and  chin  were  beautiful,  and  his  bluish  gray 
eyes  had  in  general  a  winning,  fascinating  expression, 
though  there  were  times  when  they  exhibited  a  restless- 
ness and  wildness  really  painful  to  behold.  His  forehead 
was  high,  full,  and  expansive,  from  which  his  light  brown 
hair  was  carefully  brushed  back,  in  the  most  approved 
mode.  He  dressed  well  and  richly,  was  very  precise  in  his 
toilet,  and  altogetheij^had  a  very  distingue  air. 

Such  is  the  tout  ensemble  of  one  who  was  destined  to 
exercise  no  trifling  influence  on  my  future  career.  Whether 
he  may  be  considered  my  good  or  evil  genius,  I  leave  the 
reader  to  determine  by  the  sequel. 

That  he  was,  in  a  great  degree,  a  marked  character,  the 
reader  will  readily  credit  from  the  specimen  given.  The 
versatility  of  his  mind  exceeded  that  of  almost  any  being 
with  whom  it  has  ever  been  my  fortune  to  come  in  contact. 
That  he  was  always  sane,  I  very  much  question — though 
if  ever  insane,  there  was  a  method  in  it.  He  was  a  natu- 
ral musician — could  sing  delightifully,  and  play  on  almost 
any  instrument.     He  was  also  a  poet  by  nature,  and  a 


24  VIOLA. 


scholar  by  education.  He  was  at  times  lively  to  excess, 
and  moody  to  misanthropy.  He  was  by  turns  a  humorist, 
a  practical  joker,  a  sentimentalist,  a  satirist,  a  moralist,  an 
enthusiast,  and  always  a  fatalist.  The  more  I  saw  of  him, 
the  more  difficult  I  found  it  to  comprehend  him.  Nature 
had  made  him  a  genius,  but  had  never  established  a  har- 
monious equilibrium  between  his  different  faculties.  How 
one  so  eccentric  in  almost  everything  else,  could  be  so  pre- 
cise in  his  toilet,  was  a  matter  that  puzzled  me  to  under- 
stand as  much  as  any  other. 

In  short,  he  was  a  peculiarity — an  oddity — a  none-such 
— and  one  every  way  calculated  to  suit  me  for  a  travelling 
companion,  inasmuch  as  I  should  never  lack  variety,  never 
die  of  ennui. 

I  will  only  add,  that,  as  regarded  his  own  history,  he 
was  for  sometime  incommunicative ;  and  when  I  chanced 
to  touch  on  the  subject,  ever  enshrouded  himself  in  a  veil 
of  mystery,  that  excited,  while  it  baffled,  my  curiosity. 
For  the  rest,  I  shall  let  him  speak  and  act  for  himself. 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  Harley,  gaily,  smiling  at  my  sur- 
prise, "  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  ! — how  do  you  find  your- 
self this  morning  ?"  and  he  seized  and  shook  my  hand  with 
as  much  heartiness  as  if  we  had  just  met  after  a  year's 
separation. 

"In  the  name  of  the  seven  wonders,"  replied  I,  "  where 
have  you  been  hiding  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours  ?  for  I 
see  and  feel  it  is  you,  and  no  ghost,  though  I  was  just  on 
tlie  point  of  ordering  Tom  to  tie  crape  round  my  hat." 

"  But  you  thought  it  best  to  mourn  on  a  full  stomach, 
eh?"  pointing  to  the  breakfast,  which'  was  now  ready. 
"  Come,  sit  down — the  first  table  is  better  than  the  second, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  looks  of  the  thing.  There,  now,  we 
can  do  two  things  at  once — talk  and  eat.  Waiter,  a  piece 
of  that  steak,  rare.     So,  Harry — excuse  me  I  bat  I  muist 


A    STRANGE   COMPANION.  25 

call  you  Harry,  or  I  shall  fancy  I  am  talking  to  a  stranger 
— so  you  made  a  regular  search  for  me,  eh !  and  then  sat 
down  and  said,  '  I^oti  est  inventus  V  AYhy,  man  alive,  I 
■was  in  my  state-room,  rolled  up  snug  in  the  blankets,  and 
snoring  away  with  a  forty  horse  power.  Coffee,  boy — 
strong — none  of  your  dish-water  now.  Harry,  I'll  trouble 
you  for  that  omelet ;  and  while  your  hand  is  in,  you  may 
pass  those  mashed  potatoes,  and  the  bread — these  woolly- 
headed  servants  are  so  confounded  lazy.  Ah !  excuse  me  I 
I  forgot  that  Tom  was  behind  your  chair ;  but  of  course  he 
is  an  exception.  By  Jove  !  it  is  glorious  to  eat — particu- 
larly after  a  fast  of  twenty-four  hours.  Eh  !  did  you 
speak?" 

"  Yes  !  I  was  going  to  say,  I  made  inquiry  of  the  clerk 
for  your  state-room,  and  he  said  there  was  no  Morton  Har- 
ley  on  the  register." 

"  Very  likely — but  you  will  find  a  Smith  Jones  there,  or 
a  Jones  Smith,  I  forget  which." 

"Do  you  then  travel  incognito?" 

"  I  travel  any  way,  but  do  not  feel  bound  to  write  my 
name  in  every  old  musty  book,  for  a  set  of  jackasses  to 
stare  at.  Besides,  if  this  floating  machine  should  blow  up, 
and  I  get  killed,  perhaps  my  name  would  be  paraded  in  the 
newspapers,  to  the  grief  of  my  friends  and  the  joy  of  my 
enemies;  and  some  old  woman  would  say,  'Poor  fellow! 
so  he's  dead  at  last.'  Blown  up  in  a  steamboat  !  think  of 
that,  Harry  !  What  glory  is  there  in  such  a  death  as  that  ? 
Bah !  I  would  sooner  not  die  at  all." 

"But  why  did  you  leave  me  so  abruptly  yesterday?" 

"  I  was  ill — one  of  my  spells.  When  you  see  me  in  that 
way,  just  let  me  alone  ;  nature  is  my  best  physician — for 
the  simple  reason,  that  I  am  not  ready  to  die  yet — when  I 
am,  I  shall  send  for  the  faculty,  and  employ  at  least  three, 
to  hasten  the  crisis.     '  x\fter  all,  your  doctors  are  a  useful 


26  \^IOLA. 


class ;  for  without  them  the  world  would  get  peopled  too  fast 
— they  are  the  safety-valves  to  a  surplus  population.  Tom, 
hand  round  my  cup  to  that  hlack  imp  yonder  for  some  more 
coffee,  and  give  him  a  slight  hint  not  to  be  all  day  about  it. 
Harry,  I'll  trouble  you  for  that  omelet  once  more.  Thank 
you  !     By-the-bye,  do  you  ever  write  ?" 

"  I  have  scribbled  a  little,  though  nothing  to  my  credit," 
I  replied.  "  However,  I  have  some  thoughts  of  keeping  a 
journal  of  my  adventures — that  is,  if  I  have  any  worth 
recording." 

"  Good !  a  capital  idea  !  excellent !  and  I'll  take  care 
you  have  something  to  write  about.  But,  entre  nou8,  you 
must  make  a  character  of  me  !  I  must  figure  there,  if  only 
to  play  second  fiddle.  You  shall  be  Don  Quixote,  and  I'll 
be  Sancho  Panza,  your  chosen  squire.  On  state  occasions 
I'll  be  your  prime  minister.  Capital  thing  this  writing, 
and  having  the  whole  public  to  laugh  at  your  jokes,  smile 
at  your  follies,  and  weep  at  your  misfortunes.  I  had  some 
thoughts  of  turning  author  myself  once ;  but  then  it's  such 
a  bore  to  write ;  and  besides,  if  you  please  yourself,  ten  to 
one  you  don't  any  body  else.  Then  if  you  publish,  there 
is  a  set  of  carping  critics  to  come  pouncing  down  upon  you, 
like  a  hawk  upon  a  chicken  ;  and  the  more  merit  you  have, 
the  greater  fool  they'll  make  you  appear.  They'll  turn 
your  most  honied  words  into  gall,  and  all  your  eloquent 
passages  into  rhodomontade.  Your  original  ideas  they'll 
swear  point  blank  are  plagiarisms,  and  bring  in  the  ghost 
of  some  Greek,  A^andal,  or  Goth,  to  prove  it.  If  you  make 
one  grammatical  slip,  they'll  prove  your  ignorance  in  some- 
thing less  than  a  column  ;  and  after  destroying  all  your 
good  things,  or  ascribing  them  to  some  unheard  of  author, 
they'll  collect  all  your  faults  into  a  heap,  like  a  cart-load  of 
old  rubbish,  and  pile  them  upon  your  devoted  head.  Ossa 
upon  Pelion.     If  your  sentences  are   all  correct,  smooth, 


A    STRANGE    COMPANION.  27 

and  beautiful,  with  well-rounded  periods,  they'll  cry  you 
tame,  monotonous,  prosy;  if  you  dash  out  in  a  bold,  vigor- 
ous manner,  they'll  make  fun  of  your  style,  and  give  you 
credit  for  being  a  lunatic.  In  short,  say  what  you  will,  do 
what  you  will,  you  are  sure  to  be  done  for  by  these  literary 
Harpies,  who  will  plunder  you,  mentally,  as  their  name- 
sakes did  of  old  the  table  of  Phineus.  Bah  !  I  hate  critics  ; 
for  they  dine  on  worm-wood,  take  nut-gall  for  dessert,  and 
use  vinegar  as  a  beverage." 

Thus  my  new  acquaintance  rattled  on,  from  one  thing 
to  another,  apparently  at  home  on  every  topic ;  and  so 
mingled  humor,  satire,  and  sentiment,  that  I  never  wearied 
of  listening  to  his  conversation.  Breakfast  over,  we  re- 
paired to  the  hurricane  deck,  to  enjoy  in  freedom  the 
morning  air.  Some  twenty  of  the  passengers  were  already 
before  us,  and  were  standing,  sitting,  or  sauntering  about, 
as  best  suited  their  several  inclinations.  Harley  selected 
the  most  marked  among  them,  and  soon  gave  proof,  by  his 
remarks,  that  he  was  a  great  adept  in  human  nature.  He 
would  look  at  a  man  a  few  moments,  and  then  tell  you  all 
his  prominent  characteristics,  and  even  penetrate  his  very 
thoughts,  as  he  more  than  once  convinced  me  by  address- 
ing the  individual  on  the  subject  uppermost  in  his  mind.  I 
might  cite  several  instances,  but  I  must  pass  on  to  more 
important  matters. 

Whoever  has  travelled  much  on  the  "Western  waters, 
needs  not  to  be  told  that  gambling  on  the  boats  is  a  very 
prominent  feature ;  and  that,  as  a  consequence,  scenes 
sometimes  occur  of  a  nature  to  make  one's  blood  run  chill 
with  horror.  I  will  record  one  that  came  under  my  own 
observation,  and  which,  as  the  sequel  will  prove,  had  a 
slight  bearing  on  my  subsequent  history. 

Among  the  passengers  who,  by  some  peculiarity  of  look 
or  manner,  more  particularly  attracted  our  attention,  (I  say 


28  VIOLA. 


ours,  for  Harley  and  I  soon  became  almost  inseparable,)  was 
a  young  man,  of  a  wan,  sallow,  cadaverous  countenance,  who 
seemed  to  be  laboring  under  a  disease  which  preyed  more 
or  less  upon  his  vitals.  I  had  often  remarked  him  stand- 
ing near  some  one  of  the  card-tables,  and  watching  the  game 
with  an  intensity  of  look,  I  may  term  it  eagerness  of  ex- 
pression, which  for  one  who  had  no  interest  in  the  stakes, 
one  who  was  merely  a  spectator  like  myself,  seemed  very 
remarkable.     I  asked  my  friend  what  he  thought  of  it. 

"  Sir,"  he  replied,  ''  that  young  man  has  a  natural  pas 
sion  for  gaming ;  he  has  tried  it  more  than  once  and  lost ; 
and  he  has  secretly  sworn  never  to  touch  another  card. 
Yes,  sir,  it  is  as  diflBcult  for  him  to  resist  the  temptation 
here  offered,  as  it  is  for  the  habitual  drunkard  to  push 
back  the  poisonous  stimulant  held  to  his  lips  by  the  hand 
of  one  he  esteems  his  friend.  God  aid  him  in  his  virtuous 
struggle !  for  if  he  touches  a  card  now,  he  is  forever 
ruined." 

As  he  spoke,  Harley  approached  the  stranger,  and  shak- 
ing his  head,  said,  gravely,  in  one  of  his  blandest  tones : 

"No,  no,  my  friend,  it  will  not  do." 

The  invalid  started,  and  turned  upon  Harley  a  look  in 
which  surprise  and  gratitude  were  strangely  blended. 

"You  are  right,"  he  replied,  "and  I  thank  your  for  the 
caution ;"  and  turning  upon  his  heel,  he  retired  to  a  dis« 
tant  part  of  the  saloon. 

An  hour  later  I  again  saw  him  by  one  of  the  tables — his 
ruling  passion  was  stronger  than  his  will  and  reason. 
From  this  moment  I  watched  him  more  closely  than  ever ; 
and  I  noted,  with  a  feeling  of  commiseration,  the  painful 
struggle  going  on  in  his  mind.  I  had  a  presentiment  that 
his  evil  genius  would  ultimately  triumph — and  it  did.  It 
was  with  pain  I  saw  him  marked  out  as  a  victim  by  more 
than  one  professional  gambler  in  the  garb  of  a  gentlemaa 


A    STRANGE   COMPANION.  29 

For  a  day  or  two,  however,  all  the  overtures  of  these 
gentry  were  met  by  a  decided  refusal ;  and  I  had  just  be- 
gun to  indulge  the  hope  that  he  would  escape  the  fatal 
snare,  when,  alas  !  to  my  great  regret,  I  saw  him  yield. 
He  sat  down  to  the  table,  played  almost  recklessly  for  a 
couple  of  hours,  and  arose  winner  to  no  inconsiderable 
amount.  His  pale  features  were  now  flushed  with  triumph, 
and  his  dark  eyes  had  a  wild,  unsettled  look,  that  showed 
how  powerfully  his  feelings  were  excited  by  the  result. 
He  clutched  his  winnings  with  the  eagerness  of  a  mioer, 
and,  as  if  afraid  to  trust  himself  longer  in  such  company, 
darted  away  to  his  state-room. 

"Alas  !"  said  Harley,  "he  is  lost;  his  success  to-night 
will  be  his  ruin  to-morrow ;  it  is  the  bait  of  the  fowler." 

The  next  night  I  saw  the  invalid  take  his  place  among 
the  gamblers  at  an  early  hour.  As  if  expecting  some  ter- 
rible catastrophe,  those  who  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
playing  at  the  different  tables,  now  gathered  around  the 
fated  young  man,  and  stood  anxious  spectators  of  the 
scene  in  which  he  was  taking  a  part.  Not  a  word  waa 
spoken,  and  the  silence  was  ominous  and  oppressive.  I 
stood  where  I  could  watch  the  countenance  of  the  invalid, 
as  well  as  that  of  his  adversary.  The  former  was  unusually 
pale  and  haggard,  with  a  nervous  twitching  of  the  muscles 
about  the  mouth,  and  a  glaring  wildness  of  the  eyes,  that 
was  painful  to  bshold.  Occasionally  a  deep  flush  would 
pass  over  his  thin,  wasted  features,  and  then,  retreating 
suddenly,  leave  them  of  a  ghastly  hue,  with  the  exception 
perhaps  of  a  bright  red  spot  on  either  cheek.  It  was  an 
awful  sight  to  behold  this  battling  of  disease  and  the  pas- 
sions with  the  broken  constitution  of  one  already  doomed ! 
and  I  watched  the  game  with  a  painful  interest  I  had 
never  before  eixperienced.  In  contradistinction  to  his 
victim  the  professional  gambler  was  cool,  calm,  collected, 

3 


30  VIOLA. 


and  seemingly  indifferent  to  all  that  was  taking  place.  He 
"knew  his  power  and  was  using  it  with  fatal  precision. 
Oh  !  how  I  abhorred  him  from  my  very  soul ! 

The  game  commenced,  and  continued  for  an  hour,  with 
success  alternating  between  the  two  players.  Then  the 
gambler  began  to  win,  and  then  the  struggle  of  life  and 
death  began  with  his  victim,  who,  at  the  loss  of  every 
stake,  seemed  to  grow  more  and  more  desperate,  till  at  last 
his  eyes  glared  and  rolled  horribly,  and  he  exhibited  all  the 
frenzy  of  a  maniac.  Another  hour,  and  he  was  ruined — 
his  last  cent  was  gone. 

For  a  moment  or  two  he  glared  at  the  pile  of  money, 
which  the  gambler  was  already  beginning  to  transfer  to  his 
pocket;  and  then  uttering  a  thrilling  cry,  something 
between  a  shriek  and  a  groan,  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
dashed  his  hands  violently  against  his  temples,  exclaiming, 

"  Oh  !  my  God !  my  God  !  what  have  I  done  V  Ruined 
my  poor  old  mother  !  gambled  away  her  only  dependence ! 
Oh  !  sir  !  sir  !  (to  the  gambler)  give  me  back  that  money  ! 
it  was  not  mine,  it  was  not  mine,  sir  !  I  had  no  right  to  use 
it — it  was  my  mother's.  Oh  !  sir  !  give  it  back  to  me,  and 
on  my  knees  I  will  bless  you,  and  pledge  my  soul's  salva- 
tion that  I  will  never  touch  a  card  again  !  If  you  will  not 
give  me  all,  give  me  a  part,  for  I  am  ruintd  ;"  and  ao  if 
the  word  "  ruined"  conjured  up  madness,  he  made  a  spring 
at  the  money,  when  the  unfeeling  wretch,  who  had  won  his 
all,  repulsed  him  with  a  blow,  that  staggered  him  back 
against  the  wall. 

I  was  too  much  excited  to  consider  consequences,  but 
acting  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  I  raised  my  hand  and 
felled  the  gambler  to  the  ground.  I  was  about  following 
up  my  advantage,  to  give  him  a  severer  chastisement,  when 
a  cry  of  horror  from  the  crowd  arrested  my  attention.  I 
sprang  forward  to  ascertain  the  cause,  and  saw  the  invalid 


A  STRANGE   COMPANION.  3x 


reclining  against  the  wall,  the  most  horrible  spectacle  I 
had  ever  beheld.  The  excitement  and  the  blow  had  caused 
him  to  burst  a  blood-vessel,  and  the  warm  current  of  life 
was  now  gushing  from  his  mouth  and  nose,  and  he  was 
actually  weltering  in  his  own  gore.  A  single  moment  he 
sat  thus ;  and  then  gurgling  forth,  "  My  moth-er  !"  fell 
over  on  his  side  a  corpse. 

I  bent  down  to  ascertain  if  he  were  dead,  and  the  action 
probably  saved  my  life ;  for  at  that  moment  the  report  of  a 
pistol  startled  the  crowd  ;  and  a  ball,  passing  just  over  my 
head,  lodged  in  the  side  of  the  saloon.  It  was  the  work  of 
the  gambler,  who  thus  sought  to  take  his  revenge  on  me 
for  my  interference.     There  was  a  general  cry  of, 

"Lynch  him!  Lynch  him  !"  But  he  had  already 
escaped — for  the  boat  at  the  time  was  lying  against  the 
shore  to  wood. 

I  made  .inquiry  of  the  clerk,  and  with  the  little  he 
knew,  and  the  examination  of  some  letters  found  in  his 
trunk,  I  learned  the  name  of  the  young  man,  and  that  his 
mother  resided  at  a  small  village  in  Texas.  I  made  a  note 
of  all,  and  resolved,  if  I  chanced  in  that  vicinity,  to  visit 
her,  break  the  sad  news  of  her  son's  death,  and,  should  she 
need,  give  her  pecuniary  aid. 

The  next  day  the  victim  was  buried  at  a  small  island, 
where  we  again  stopped  to  wood.  We  followed  him  to  his 
humble  grave ;  and  over  his  mortal  remains  I  took  a 
solemn  oath,  that  I  would  never  gamble  again.  I  had 
been  taught  a  lesson,  that,  to  the  latest  day  of  my  exis- 
tence, I  could  never  forget. 


CHAPTER  III. 

LUDICROUS    AND    MYSTERIOUS. 

Arrived  at  New  Orleans,  I  decided  on  taking  rooms  at 
the  St.  Charles,  and  making  a  short  sojourn,  in  order  to  see 
the  city.  My  friend  acquiesced  in  my  decision,  but  said 
that  for  himself  there  could  be  nothing  new  here,  as  he  had 
visited  the  city  divers  times  before. 

"  But  I  can  the  better  act  as  guide  to  you,  therefore," 
he  concluded ;  "  so  my  dear  Harry,  leave  all  to  me.  I 
will  select  the  rooms,  register  the  names,  order  everything, 
and,  if  you  like,  be  your  private  secretary." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you  in  the  latter  particular,"  I 
answered. 

*'  No  ?  Well,  no  matter  ;  do  you  follow  my  counsel, 
when  I  give  any,  and  all  will  be  well." 

I  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  the  rooms  my  friend 
selected,  for  they  were  among  the  best  in  that  famous 
hotel ;  but  one  little  incident  that  occurred  shortly  after  my 
establishing  myself  in  them,  I  may  as  well  relate, 
en  passant. 

It  was  after  nightfall  when  the  Neptune  arrived  at  the 
landing ;  and  it  might  have  been  a  couple  of  hours  later, 
that  I  found  myself  seated  in  a  splendidly  furnished  parlor, 
which  had  been  assigned  me,  scanning  the  news  of  the  day 
from  the  columns  of  one  of  the  local  journals.  I  was 
alone,  for  Harley  had  made  some  excuse  to  go  out  by  him- 
self. Presently  a  waiter  entered,  and  bowing  very  obse- 
quiously, said :  • 
(32) 


LUDICROUS    AND    MYSTERIOUS.  33 

"  Will  your  lordship  come  down  to  supper,  or  have  it 
served  here  ?" 

"^  will  come  down.*' 

The  waiter  bowed  and  withdrew,  and  immediately  after 
:he  gong  sent  its  crashing  notes  through  all  the  house. 

At  supper  I  could  not  but  observe  that  very  particular 
attention  was  paid  to  me ;  but  I  only  thought  to  myself, 
the  proprietors  of  the  St.  Charles  know  how  to  make  a 
stranger  feel  at  his  ease  and  at  home.  On  returning  from 
the  table  to  my  private  parlor,  Tom  met  me,  and  said,  with 
a  grin : 

"Massa  Hal,  I  tink  you  got  to  be  great  man  all  a 
sudden." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Tom  ?'* 

"  In  dar,  you  see ;"  and  Tom  pointed  to  my  private 
rooms,  and  grinned  again. 

I  went  in,  and  was  somewhat  surprised  to  find  several 
gentlemen  apparently  awaiting  my  return,  for  they  all 
rose  on  my  entrance,  and  bowed  obsequiously.  Then  the 
foremost,  or  the  one  nearest  me,  advanced,  and  said,  placing 
his  hand  on  his  heart,  and  inclining  his  body  to  a  bend  he 
intended  should  appear  the  height  of  politeness : 

"  My  nam'  is  Jean  Perouse.  I  sail  have  le  grand 
honeur  to  measure  your  lordship  for  one  syit  a  la  mode." 

"  Sir,  I  do  not  understand  you  !  this  is  some  mistake," 
I  replied. 

"  No  meestake  your  lordship,  I  do  assure.  I  sail  have 
done  in  one  little  mineet;"  and  the  man  out  with  his 
measuring  tape,  and  began  to  apply  it  to  my  person, 
adding :  "  It  is  all  be  right,  your  lordship — it  is  all  be 
right." 

He  was  very  expeditious,  and  said,  as  he  finished,  and 
bowed  himself  out : 


3* 


S4  VIOLA. 


"  To-morrow  night,  I  sail  have  le  grand  honeur  for  to 
send  your  lordship  suit,  a  la  mode.     Adieu." 

"Well,  that  is  cool,"  thought  I,  as  I  stared  after  the 
tailor. 

"  My  name  is  Bantam,  at  your  lordship's  service,"  said 
a  voice  at  my  elbow. 

I  turned,  and  beheld  another  of  my  visitors,  a  well- 
dressed  man,  just  in  the  act  of  making  a  low  bow. 

"My  dear  sir — "  I  began. 

"It  is  all  right,  your  lordship,"  he  interrupted.  "  I  am 
a  hatter,  your  lordship,  and  have  called  to  take  the  mea- 
sure of  your  lordship's  head  ;"  and  forthwith  he  proceeded 
to  cast  a  band  around  my  cranium. 

"But,  sir— " 

"  Twenty-three  inches,"  he  interrupted  again  ;  "  all 
right,  your  lordship.  I  will  send  round  the  hat  to-morrow. 
Meantime,  I  am  your  lordship's  very  humble  servant;" 
and  with  another  low  bow,  he  went  out. 

"  Confound  the  fellows  !  what  do  they  mean  ?"  was  my 
mental  exclamation ;  but  I  had  not  time  to  say  anything, 
when  up  came  the  third,  and,  with  the  same  obsequious  air, 
proceeded  : 

"  My  name  is  Smith,  your  lordship  I  am,  by  pro- 
fession, a  gentleman  bootmaker.  If  ^  your  lordship  will 
only  be  seated  for  a  moment,  I  shall  have  the  honor  to 
take  the  measure  of  your  lordship's  foot." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  I  replied,  beginning  to  get  perfectly  be- 
wildered, "  you  shall  have  the  honor  of  measuring  both 
feet,  if  you  will  only  explain  what  all  this  means." 

"  It  is  all  right,  I  do  assure  your  lordship.  Will  your 
lordship  please  to  be  seated,  till  I  draw  your  lordship's 
boot  ?" 

"But,  sir!     Mr.  Jones — " 

"  Smith,  sir-— Smith  is  my  name,  your  lordship.     Pray 


LUDICROUS    AND   MYSTERIOUS.  35 

don't  confound  me  with  the  Jones's  ! — the  Jones's  in  my 
line  are  only  snobs." 

"  Well,  Smith  or  Jones,  snob  or  no  snob,  it  is  all  one  ko 
me,"  I  rejoined,  half-angrily,  though  a  good  deal  amused 
in  spite  of  myself.  "  But,  sir, — Mr.  Smith — there  is  some 
error  here."  \ 

"  Oh !  no,  your  lordship  ;  it  is  all  right,  I  do  assure 

you." 

"But  I  do  assure  you  it  \¥not  all  right,"  I  replied, 
"  and  I  think  I  ought  to  know  best.  In  the  first  place,  I 
am  no  lord." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  Smith;  "very  good!  clever! 
very  clever  !  ha,  ha,  ha  !" 

"Are  you  a  fool  ?  or  a  madman?"  cried  I,  growing  in- 
dignant. 

"Neither,  your  lordship,"  answered  Smith,  gravely, 
"  but  only  a  gentleman  boot-maker,  at  your  lordship's  ser- 
vice.    Will  your  lordship  do  me  the  honor  to  sit?" 

"  My  lordship  will  do  you  the  honor  to  kick  you  down 
stairs,  directly,  if  you  persist  in  this  foolery !"  cried  I. 

"  Nay,  your  lordship,  on  that,  in  this  country,  I  could 
found  an  action,"  answered  Smith,  quietly. 

"  Faith,  man,"  said  I,  "  I  think  you  would  find  it  an 
action  already /owwc^efi.-  But  tell  me,  now,  seriously — who 
do  you  take  me  for  ?" 

"A  gentleman,  your  lordship,"  replied  Smith. 

"  But  why  do  you  wish  to  measure  my  foot  ?** 

"To  make  your  lordship  a  pair  of  boots." 

"But  I  do  not  want  any  boots." 

"  All  right,  your  lordship,  if  your  lordship  will  please  to 
sit;  I  will  scarcely  detain  your  lordship  a  minute." 

"Well,  these  fellows  are  either  mad  or  I  am,"  was  my 
reflection,  as  I  threw  myself  on  a  sofa,  and  held  out  my 


36  VIOLA. 


foot  to  Mr.  Smith,  who  drew  the  boot  and  took  the  mea- 
sure with  great  expedition. 

There  were  two  others  still  in  the  room,  who  had  thus 
far  kept  quietly  back  and  said  nothing  ;  but  the  moment 
the  gentleman  boot-maker  took  his  leave,  one  of  these,  a 
small  man,  advanced  rather  timidly  to  where  Iwas  sitting. 

^'  Well,  sir  ?"  cried  I,  so  savagely,  that  he  started,  and 
took  a  step  or  two  backward ;  but  seeming  to  gather  new 
resolution,  he  again  venxured  forward,  and  said,  softly, 
bobbing  his  head  like  a  tip-up : 

*'  May  it  please  your  lordship,  my  name  is  Doty,  at  your 
lordship's  very  humble  service ;  and  understanding  that 
your  lordship  would  like  a  carriage — " 

The  men  are  either  mad,  or  they  mean  to  insult  me,  I 
thought ;  and  I  sprung  to  my  feet  just  as  the  word  '  car- 
riage' was  trembling  on  Mr.  Doty's  lips;  who,  divining 
no  doubt  from  my  looks  that  I  intended  to  make  an  ex- 
ample of  him,  left  his  speech  unfinished,  and  broke  for  the 
hall,  which  was  the  last  I  ever  saw  of  hiuL.  There  was 
still  one  remaining,  and  as  I  turned  upon  him,  I  saw  he 
looked  very  pale  and  uneasy,  and  began  to  edge  toward 
the  door.  I  stood  and  watched  him,  till  he  got  the  door 
between  me  and  him,  when,  seeming  to  feel  more  at  hia 
ease,  he  ventured : 

"Your  lordship — " 

But  he  ventured  no  further  ;  for  seizing  a  chair,  I  made 
at  him,  when,  turning,  he  fled,  with  a  yell  of  terror  I  shall 
never  forget.  The  last  I  saw  of  him,  he  was  going  down 
stairs,  three  at  a  time,  to  the  imminent  danger  of  his  legs 
and  neck,  which  fortunately  all  got  off  safe,  at  least  I  never 
heard  to  the  contrary.  I  now  espied  Tom,  leaning  against 
the  balustrade,  and  holding  his  sides ;  and  putting  down 
the  chair,  I  walked  up  to  him,  and  taking  him  by  the  arm, 
led  him  quietly  into  my  parlor.     Then  closing  the  door,  I 


LUDICROUS   AND   MYSTERIOUS.  37 

grasped  both  arms,  and  shaking  him  till  my  own  arms 
ached,  I  exclaimed : 

"  So,  boy,  this  is  some  of  your  doings,  eh  ?  I'll  teach 
you  to  play  pranks  on  your  master,  you  rascal !" 

"No,  no,  no,"  cried  Tom,  who  by  this  time  had  found 
his  tongue ;  "  I  neber  did  um,  Massa  Hal — trute — 'fore  de 
angels  it  is,  massa." 

"  Who  did  do  it  then,  you  black  imp  ?" 

"  Don'  know,  Massa  "Wal'on — 'less — 'less  Massa  Harley 
do  um." 

The  truth  now  flashed  upon  me ;  and  throwing  ofif  Tom, 
with  a  force  that  sent  him  spinning  round  the  room,  I  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Yes,  Harley  is  at  the  bottom  of  it — dunce  that  I  am 
not  to  have  thought  of  him  before." 

As  I  said  this,  I  heard  a  suppressed  yell  in  my  bed- 
room, which  adjoined  tlie  parlor;  and  hastily  throwing 
open  the  door,  I  there  beheld  Morton  Harley,  rolling  over 
and  over  on  the  bed,  with  both  hands  upon  his  sides,  ap- 
parently in  the  last  agonies  of  convulsions.  The  moment 
he  saw  me,  he  gave  vent  to  such  screams  of  laughter,  that 
I  really  began  to  fear  he  would  burst  a  blood-vessel  and 
alarm  the  house,  though  neither  event  happened. 

"My  dear  sir,  you  deserve  a  horse-whipping,"  said  I, 
as  soon  as  I  could  make  myself  heard. 

"Don't!  your  lordship  —  don't!"  groaned  Harley, 
catching  his  breath  for  another  fit.  "  Oh  !  my  poor  sides ! 
Oh  !  my  poor  sides !"  and  off  he  went  again,  till  he  began 
to  grow  black  in  the  face. 

Meanwhile,  my  anger  subsiding,  I  began  to  view  the 
whole  affair  as  a  capital  joke,  though  rather  too  much  at 
my  expense  for  me  to  appreciate  it  as  I  would  had  another 
been  the  victim.  However,  by  the  time  that  Harley  had 
recovered  so  as  to  sit  up  and  talk  soberly,  I  had  forgiven 


38  VIOLA. 


him  in  so  much  as  my  angry  feelings  were  concerned, 
though  I  had  determined  to  pay  him  off  in  his  own  coin 
sooner  or  later.  I  rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  champaigne; 
and  as  we  filled  our  glasses — 

"  Here's  to  the  genius  of  Morton  Harley  !"  said  I. 

*'  Thank  you  !  here's  to  your  lordship  !"  he  returned. 

"  To  his  lordship,  then,  for  the  first  and  last  time,"  I 
rejoined,  and  emptied  my  glass. 

"Not  so  fast,"  said  Harley,  draining  his  cup;  "you 
must  not  dismiss  your  nobility  so  soon,  and  resolve  your- 
self into  plain  mister.  You  have  begun  your  part  well, 
considering — pray  carry  it  out  —  nothing  like  making  a 
sensation.  True,  I  think  you  can  improve  upon  it — for  in 
your  debut,  you  rather  over-acted,  and  were  too  choleric — 
but  then  you  know,  my  dear  fellow,  one  cannot  arrive  at 
perfection  immediately." 

"No,  no,  Harley — a  joke  is  a  joke,  and  so  let  it  end. 
But  tell  me  how  you  succeeded  in  making  the  other  cha- 
racters play  their  parts  so  well ;  for  no  matter  what  I  said 
or  did,  they  seemed  not  in  the  least  astonished,  but  to  take 
it  all  as  a  matter  of  course,  declaring  it  was  all  right. 
Were  they  really  tradesmen  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  they  were,  and  they  really  believe  you  to 
be  an  English  nobleman,  very  eccentric,  and  slightly 
touched  here;"  and  Harley  tapped  his  forehead.  "  I  got 
them  all  together,  and  told  them  exactly  how  to  proceed, 
and  not  to  seem  surprised  at  anything  you  might  say  or 
do ;  and  that  even  if  you  denied  your  rank,  or  asked  what 
it  all  meant,  or  in  any  way  became  refractory,  to  persist 
in  their  purpose,  and  only  answer  you  by  saying  it  was  all 
right." 

"But  the  waiter,"  said  I,  "  when  he  came  to  know  if  1 
would  have  my  supper  here,  or  would  go  below,  he  ad- 
dressed me  in  the  same  style." 


LUDICROUS   AND   MYSTERIOUS.  39 


"  Very  likely,  for  you  are  registered  as  Lord  Harcourt, 
England." 

"  By  Jove  !  this  must  not  be  !"  cried  I:  "  I  will  not  pass 
for  other  than  I  am." 

"  Very  well,  my  dear  Harry,  I  will  right  it,  since  you 
do  not  like  it :  and  perhaps  it  will  be  as  well,  now  that  I 
have  had  my  joke  and  champaigne." 

*'Do  it  now,  then — this  instant." 

Harley  went  out,  and  was  gone  some  quarter  of  an 
hour. 

"  Well  ?"  said  I,  on  his  return. 

"  I  have  done  it,  and  saved  your  credit.  I  told  the 
clerk  you  wished  h>  remain  incog.,  and  were  very  much 
offended  because  I  tiioughtlessly  made  known  your  rank ; 
60  he  crossed  out  Lord  Harcourt,  and  wrote  under  it  plain 
Henry  Walton.     I  hope  now  you  are  satisfied." 

*'  But  this  tailor,  hatter,  and  gentleman  bootmaker  V* 
said  I. 

'*  Oh,  if  you  do  not  want  the  articles,  I  will  counter- 
mand the  orders." 

"  Very  well,  see  that  you  do  it,  or  else  take  them  your- 
self !  it  is  right  you  should  have  a  little  trouble  for  being 
80  officious." 

I  spent  several  days  in  New  Orleans,  and  was  delighted 
with  the  city,  its  sights,  and  the  climate.  The  weather 
was  beautiful,  just  warm  enough  to  be  comfortable,  and  as 
everything  was  new  to  me,  I  enjoyed  myself  beyond  my 
anticipation.  I  generally  rode  out  through  the  day,  and  at 
night  visited  some  theatre,  ball,  or  masquerade. 

Thus  had  passed  my  time  for  a  week,  when,  one  morn- 
ing, feeling  rather  the  worse  for  wear,  to  use  a  common 
phrase,  I  kept  my  bed,  refused  my  breakfast,  and  declined 
a  walk  with  my  friend,  who  went  out  alone.  I  was  not 
j[ll,  only  slightly  indisposed,  and  fasting  and  resting  soon 


4C  VIOLA. 


set  me  right.  I  arose  about  one,  and  having  perused  the 
daily  journals,  was  just  in  the  act  of  dressing  for  dinner, 
when  Harley  burst  into  my  room,  pale,  excited,  out  of 
breath,  and  covered  with  dust  from  head  to  foot. 

"Good  Heavens!"  cried  I,  in  alarm:  "what  is  the 
matter?  what  has  happened  ?" 

"I  have  seen  her !"  he  exclaimed,  wildly  :  "I  have  seen 
her  !  I  have  seen  her  !  Oh  !  that  I  had  known  she  was 
here  before !" 

"  Seen  whom  ?"  asked  I,  all  amazement. 

"Yes !  yes  !  yes  !"  he  cried,  pressing  his  temples  with 
both  hands,  and  fixing  his  eyes  upon  the  ceiling,  with  an 
abstracted  gaze.  "  Yes,  it  is  so — it  should  be  so — it  shall 
be  so !  Yes,  it  was  not  for  nothing  I  saw  her — there  is 
fate  in  it:  Heaven  wills,  fortune  smiles,  and  I  will  follow 
the  beck  of  destiny,  though  all  the  fiends  of  darkness  con- 
spire against  me!" 

"Are  you  mad?"  cried  I,  grasping  his  arm:  "if  not, 
speak  to  me,  and  answer  my  question !  Whom  have  you 
seen  : 

"  Eh  ?"  he  answered,  turning  his  gaze — cold,  icy  cold, 
and  vacant — full  upon  me,  with  a  look  that  tL*illed  me 
"with  horror. 

"  Speak  !"  I  exclaimed  ;  "  put  ^  speculation'  in  those 
eyes,  or  I  shall  deem  you  mad  !  Harley,  my  deai  friend — 
Morton  Harley — speak  to  me,  rationally,  in  the  name  of 
Heaven  !" 

"Well,"  he  answered,  as  the  intellect,  as  we  t^ometiraes 
see  the  blood,  seemed  to  rush  into  his  face,  lighting  his 
whole  countenance  in  an  instant :  "  Well,  Harry,  you  need 
not  speak  so  loud,  and  get  so  excited;  for,  if  absent  minded, 
I  am  not  deaf." 

"  Pardon  me,  my  friend !  I  was  alarmed,  and  did  not 
regard  the  tone  in  which  I  spoke.     But  do  tell  me  wb** 


LUDICROUS    AND    MYSTERIOUS.  41 

this  strange  conduct  means  !     I  hope  you  are  playing  no 
more  jokes  !"  I  added,  rather  severely. 

"  Joke  !  do  you  think  I  could  joke  on  such  a  subject  ? 
Pshaw  !  the  man  is  a  knave — " 

''  Do  you  apply  that  term  to  me,  Mr.  Harley  ?" 

— "  Who  could  joke  on  a  matter  so  near  his  heart,"  pur- 
sued Harley,  finishing  the  sentence,  which  another  flight 
absence  of  mind,  or  aberration  of  intellect,  had  apparently 
interrupted.  "  No,  no,  Hany,"  he  continued — "  I  did  not 
apply  the  term  to  you." 

"  But,  my  dear  friend,  do,  for  Heaven's  sake,  tell  me 
what  all  this  means  !     Are  you  mad  or  sane  ?" 

"  Sane,  Harry — sane  !  Ah,  ha,  ha !  they  wa.nted  to 
make  me  out  mad,  but  could  not — I  was  too  sane  for  tkom 
-^though  I  may  be  driven  mad  yet  in  consequence." 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  are  sane,  my  friend,  prove  it,  by 
answering  my  questions !" 

''Speak!" 

"  Where  have  you  been  V 

"  In  the  streets." 

"What  doing?" 

"  Running." 

"  And  why  did  you  run  ?" 

"  To  keep  up  with  the  carriage." 

"  What  carriage  ?" 

"  The  one  that  contained  her." 

"Who?" 

"Viola." 

"  And  pray  who  is  Viola  ?" 

"An  angel !  my  blessing  and  my  bane." 

"Pray,  drop  metaphor,  and  give  me  straightforward 
answers." 

"Harry,  you  are  my  friend,"  said  Harley,  abruptly — 
"  at  least  I  hope  so." 

4 


42  VIOLA. 


"I  am,  sincerely,  your  friend." 

"  Thank  you !  give  me  your  hand.  There  !  yes,  I  know, 
by  that  pressure,  you  speak  from  your  heart.  Well,  being 
my  friend,  I  will  make  bold  to  beg  of  you  a  favor." 

"  You  have  only  to  name  it." 

"  Ask  no  more  questions  now,  but  leave  me  here  alone 
for  a  couple  of  hours.  I  wish  to  lie  down  :  I  am  fatigued, 
and  a  little  excited.  There,  go  !  not  a  word  !  you  can 
make  your  toilet  in  the  parlor ;"  and  he  gently  pushed 
me  from  the  room,  adding,  as  he  closed  the  door  and  locked 
it :  "I  shall  not  be  down  to  dinner." 

I  remembered  what  my  friend  had  said  on  the  Neptune, 
that  when  I  saw  him  in  one  of  his  peculiar  moods,  to  leave 
him  alone ;  and  therefore  I  felt  less  anxiety  about  him  now 
than  I  should  otherwise  have  done.  But  who  was  Viola  ? 
Was  she  a  reality  ?  or  a  phantom  of  the  brain,  that 
haunted  him  at  times  like  a  living  thing  ?  There  seemed, 
as  I  have  elsewhere  remarked,  something  mysterious  about 
my  friend,  as  if  something  had  occurred  in  his  history 
which  he  wished  to  banish  from  his  mind.  I  had  never 
succeeded  in  getting  him  to  go  back  and  touch  upon  his 
early  life.  Whenever  I  broached  the  subject,  he  had 
always  adroitly  changed  it.  In  every  other  respect,  he 
seemed  frank  and  communicative — but  on  this  point  he 
would  say  nothing,  or  speak  so  vaguely,  that  I  learned 
nothing  definite.  Was  he  what  he  seemed  ?  was  his  real 
name  Morton  Harley  ?  where  did  he  belong  ?  what  were 
his  prospects  in  life  ?  why  was  he  thus  roaming  about, 
apparently  without  other  object  than  a  desire  for  travel  ? 
had  he  parents  living  ? — all  these  were  questions  I  often 
asked  myself,  but  could  not  answer.  Money  he  had  in 
abundance  ;  and  he  spent  it  freely  ;  spent  much  of  it  in 
charity ;  spent  it  like  a  man  who  wished  to  enjoy  the  pre- 


LUDICROUS  AND  MYSTERIOUS.  43 

Bent,  and  let  the  present  drive  both  the  future  and  the 
past  from  his  mind. 

But  who  was  Viola  ?  "  his  blessing  and  his  bane."  I 
pondered  upon  it,  as  a  man  always  ponders  upon  mere 
conjecture — coming  out  in  the  end  exactly  where  I  set 
out — knowing  no  more  when  I  had  done  than  when  I  be- 
gan. Sometimes  I  thought  she  was  real,  sometimes  ideal ; 
and  if  the  former,  that  my  friend  was  sane,  but  troubled; 
if  the  latter,  that  he  was  not  always  in  his  right  mind. 
This  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  heard  him  speak  of  her, 
and  I  felt  I  would  give  much  to  have  the  mystery  solved. 

Thus  I  mused  till  summoned  to  dinner. 


CHAPTER  lY. 


HARLEY. 


NoTWiTHSTANDiNQ  Harley  had  intimated  he  should  be 
himself  again  in  a  couple  of  hours,  I  saw  no  more  of  him 
that  day.  I  rapped  on  the  door  about  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  but  getting  no  answer,  concluded  not  to  disturb 
him.  As  he  had  taken  mj  room,  I  took  his,  which  ad- 
joined it.  Once  or  twice,  in  the  course  of  the  night,  I 
fancied  I  heard  him  moan — but  it  might  have  been  only 
fancy.  I  gave  Tom  orders  to  be  at  his  door  by  daylight, 
and  if  he  came  forth,  to  let  me  know  immediately.  I  arose 
at  a  rather  earlier  hour  than  usual,  but  found  Harley's 
door  still  locked,  and  Tom  informed  me  that  he  had  heard 
no  sound  within.  Then  I  was  tempted  to  rouse  him  at 
once ;  but  finally  resolved  to  wait  till  noon,  in  the  hope  he 
would  ere  that  time  make  his"  appearance.  To  while  away 
the  hours,  for  I  did  not  feel  like  going  out,  I  procured 
Nicholas  Nickelby,  and  had  just  got  deeply  interested  in 
that  beautiful  production  of  Dickens,  when  suddenly  I  be- 
came aware  that  some  one  was  looking  over  my  shoulder. 
I  turned,  and,  to  my  great  relief,  beheld  Harley. 

"  You  think  my  two  hours  have  been  rather  long,  eh  ?" 
he  said,  with  a  smile,  all  traces  of  wildness  and  excitement 
having  disappeared. 

"  Rather  long,  truly,  my  friend ;  but  I  am  rejoiced  to 
see  you  yourself  once  more,"  I  answered.  "  Pray  tell  me 
what  was  the  matter  with — " 

"  How  do  you  like  Dickens  ?"  he  interrupted. 

(44) 


HARLET.  45 


"  Much :  in  fact,  so  far  as  I  have  read,  I  am  delighted." 

"  And  how  many  of  his  works  have  you  read  ?" 

"This  is  the  first  I  have  ever  seriously  attempted." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Yes  !  I  glanced  over  a  few  pnges  of  Oliver  Twist,  some 
years  ago,  but  threw  it  down  in  disgust." 

"  Why  so?"  he  asked  in  surprise. 

"  Because  I  thought  it  trash." 

"  Ah !  my  dear  Harry,  that  was  because  you  did  not 
read  far  enough  to  discover,  that  below  that  light,  trifling, 
superficial  surface,  lay  a  mine  of  rich,  pure,  earnest  thought. 
Your  error  consisted  in  mistaking  the  froth  for  the  sub- 
stance. And  in  this  regard  you  are  not  alone.  There  are 
very  many  who  do  not  like  Dickens,  for  the  reason  that 
they  do  not  understand  him.  They  take  up  one  of  his 
books  as  you  did,  read  a  little  here  and  a  little  there,  throw 
it  down,  and  pronounce  the  writer  silly.  Why?  Because, 
in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  they  mistake  the  language  of  one 
of  his  foolish  characters  for  his  own.  And  Dickens  intro- 
duces foolish  characters  for  a  purpose ;  he  does  it  for  con- 
trast ;  he  does  it  to  show  society  as  it  is  ;  he  does  it  to  ridi- 
cule certain  customs,  manners,  personages,  and  institutions, 
which  are  obnoxious  to  every  sensible  mind.  Suppose  he 
attempted  this  in  essays — who  would  read  them  ?  Of  the 
millions  who  now  mentally  devour  his  every  thought — 
liking  what  he  likes — abhorring  what  he  abhors — so  that 
his  ideas  frame  public  opinion,  the  strongest  law  of  all 
laws, — how  many,  think  you,  »vould  have  heard  of  him,  had 
he  attempted  logic  only  ?  instead  of  sketching  with  his  pen, 
quaint,  homely,  life-pictures,  which  do  not  clog  the  brain 
with  abstruse  metaphysics,  but  hang  up  in  the  mind's  vision, 
to  be  seen  at  all  times  without  an  efi"ort  ?  I  like  Dickens, 
Harry,  for  several  reasons.  His  power  over  the  human 
mind  has  been  used  to  effect  a  noble  purpose,  that  of  ame- 

4* 


46  VIOLA. 


lioratinff  the  condition  of  thousands  of  his  fellow  creatures. 
He  has  brought  home  to  the  rich  and  tided,  the  sufferings, 
the  miseries,  of  those  poor,  oppressed,  down-trodden  beings, 
whom  they  have  been  taught  as  a  virtue  to  scorn  and  de- 
spise ;  and  he  has  done  this  in  a  w^ay  that  has  told  upon 
their  hearts  and  consciences.  He  has  shown  them  that 
vice  may  be  wrapped  in  silks  and  broadcloths,  and  virtue 
in  rags  ;  he  has  shown  them  that  under  the  poorest  gar- 
ments may  beat  hearts  great  and  noble — may  live  affec- 
tions pure,  true  and  holy ;  that  the  roughest  casements 
may  enclose  intellects  grand,  gigantic,  god-like.  All  this 
Las  he  done — for  this  I  like  him — and  for  this  he  deserves 
his  fame.  He  has  his  faults — who  has  not  ?  They  say  in 
private  life  he  is  an  aristocrat — what  of  that  ?  His  private 
life  belongs  to  himself — with  that  we  have  no  business ;  his 
public  sayings  are  ours — they  belong  to  the  masses — the 
whole  human  race — and  they  are  purely  democratic." 

"Well,"  replied  I,  "  after  this,  I  shall  read  Dickens  with 
a  new  interest — an  interest  aside  from  mere  amusement. 
If  his  productions  are  what  you  represent  them,  I  have 
done  him  great  injustice." 

"  Read,  Harry,  and  judge  for  yourself,"  replied  Harley. 

*'  Well,  my  friend,  since  you  have  expressed  your  opinion 
thus  freely  in  regard  to  one  author,  pray  give  me  your 
views  of  authors  in  general." 

"  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  I  scarcely  know  how  or  where  to 
begin ;  in  fact,  I  am  not  sure  I  understand  what  you  re- 
quire." 

"  I  mean  that  you  take  up  one  author  after  another,  and 
say  what  you  think  of  their  writings." 

"Novelists?" 

"  Ay,  and  poets  also." 

"  The  task  is  too  tedious  for  the  present,  Harry ;  and, 
besides,  I  do  not  profess  to  be  a  critic." 


HARLET.  47 


"  And  if  you  did,  I  should  not  care  for  your  opinion  ;  for 
then  you  would  harp  upon  their  faults,  merely  to  show 
your  own  superiority.  But,  letting  that  pass,  what  do  you 
think  of  novels  collectively  ?  their  effect  upon  society  ?" 

"Good  in  the  main,  though  liable  to  abuse,  both  by 
writers  and  readers.  A  novel,  if  properly  written,  is  a 
true  picture  of  life  as  it  exists,  or  did  exist,  at  the  time  and 
place  where  the  scene  is  laid ;  and  though  professing  to  be 
fiction,  it  is  as  much  a  living  fact  as  a  painted  landscape 
is  a  fac-simile  of  nature.  History  gives  us  only  the  skele- 
ton of  great  events — often  erroneous  ones  at  that — while 
historical  fiction  not  only  presents  the  skeleton  to  our  view, 
but  clothes  upon  it  flesh  and  blood  and  soul,  till  it  warms 
into  being,  and  shadows  forth  the  '  form  and  body  of  the 
time.'  In  it  we  see  the  dead  resuscitated,  and,  endowed 
with  life  and  passion,  reacting  their  several  parts,  with  all 
their  wonted  peculiarities.  We  see  not  men  in  the  ab- 
stract, but  living,  breathing,  human  beings,  walking  the 
earth  as  of  old,  with  all  their  ancient  fancies  and  prejudices, 
surrounded  by  the  circumstances  of  their  period ;  and  in- 
stead of  their  being  brought  forward  to  our  time,  we  go 
back  to  theirs;  and  by  the  force  of  imagination  find  our- 
selves ever  by  their  side — in  city,  in  forest,  in  castle — 
taking  part  in  their  pleasures  and  their  griefs,  their  loves 
and  their  hates ;  and  thus  do  we  understand  them,  as  in 
no  other  manner  we  could.  For  instance,  should  I  say  to 
you,  there  was  one  Napoleon  Buonaparte,  a  native  of  Cor- 
sica, who,  by  the  force  of  circumstances,  rose  from  ob- 
scurity to  be  the  Emperor  of  France,  and  went  forth  with 
great  armies,  and  made  war  upon  all  the  nations  of  Europe, 
shook  kingdoms,  made  monarchs  tremble,  became  a  great 
conqueror,  only  to  be  overthrown  and  die  in  exile — you 
would  only  know  that  there  had  been  such  a  being,  who 
performed  such  deeds ;  and  the  only  conception  you  would 


48  VIOLA. 


have  of  him,  would  be  such  as  you  would  naturally  asso- 
ciate with  an  emperor  and  a  conqueror ;  but  should  I,  after 
telling  you  this,  proceed  to  describe  the  personal  appear- 
ance of  this  emperor — his  manners,  his  habits,  his  feelings, 
his  hopes,  his  fears — relate  what  he  said  on  this  occasion 
and  on  that — in  fact,  lay  bare  to  you  all  the  secrets  of  his 
soul — portray  his  virtues,  his  vices,  his  greatness,  his  little- 
ness— the  emperor,  the  conqueror,  the  myth,  would  be  lost 
in  the  man,  and  you  would  behold  only  a  breathing,  sen- 
tient being  like  yourself.  The  former,  comparatively 
speaking,  would  be  history — the  latter,  fiction — so  from 
this  you  can  judge  how  ..limited  would  be  the  ideas  of  the 
masses  concerning  the  past,  were  fiction  altogether  de- 
stroyed. 

"  Again,  much  fiction  is  not  historical,  but  relates  to  so- 
ciety as  we  see  it  around  us ;  but  in  many  instances  it  com- 
presses society  into  so  small  a  space,  that  we  can  look  upon 
it  in  our  closet,  as  upon  a  correct  miniature  of  a  familiar 
or  unfamiliar  face.  If  the  novelist  is  true  to  his  mission, 
and  'holds  the  mirror  up  to  nature,'  he  has  tke  power  of 
doing  much  good — for  he  reaches  a  class  which  sermons 
never  reach — who  read  for  amusement — but  who  by  this 
means  may  be  made  to  imbibe  good  sentiments  and  noble  prin- 
ciples— may  be  taught  to  love  virtue  and  hate  vice,  and  even 
to  put  their  faith  and  trust  in  the  Divine  Creator ;  whereas, 
should  one  attempt  to  ding  these  matters  into  their  ears  by 
abstruse  theories,  he  would  be  met  with  ridicule  and  scorn. 
Again,  much  fiction  is  bad,  and  has  a  bad  tendency,  and 
this  should  be  condemned,  and  always  is  by  the  discriminat- 
inor  reader,  who  marks  his  author  as  he  marks  a  friend  or 
enemy.  The  good  lives,  the  bad  dies  ;  but  nothing  that  is 
good  in  itself  should  be  condemned  because  it  is  abused. 
The  man  who  condemns  all  novels,  because  some  are  bad, 
is  like  a  man  condemning  all  religion,  because  a  priest  or 


HARLEY.  49 

minister  has  proved  recreant  to  the  faith  he  professes. 
Discrimination  in  reading  is  worth  all  the  sermons  ever 
preached  against  reading  ;  and  if  you  can  have  this  well 
taught,  understood,  and  acted  upon,  you  need  not  fear  the 
result."       » 

"  You  put  novel  reading  before  me  in  a  new  light,"  I  re- 
plied ;  "  for  I  have  been  always  taught  to  regard  it  merely 
as  a  source  of  amusement,  not  as  a  benefit." 

"  Suffer  me  to  correct  you,  Harry.  All  rational  amuse- 
ment is  beneficial  both  to  mind  and  body ;  for  mind  and 
body  are  so  dependent  on  each  other,  that  what  affects  one 
affects  both.  Were  we  to  take  an  infant,  put  it  in  chains,  and 
confine  it  in  a  narrow  prison,  it  would  either  wither  and 
die,  like  a  blasted  flower,  or  grow  up  a  weak,  sickly,  feeble 
thing,  of  no  use  to  itself  or  others  ;  and  so,  if  we  chain  and 
imprison  the  mind  to  the  nairow  circle  of  visible  facts, 
giving  it  no  chance  to  soar  and  expand  itself  in  the  glorious 
field  of  imagination,  we  render  it  apathetic  and  imbecile, 
and  perhaps  reduce  it  below  the  limited  range  of  a  mere 
brute.  God  never  designed  this ;  for  the  more  healthy, 
robust,  and  expansive  the  mind,  the  greater  its  knowledge; 
the  greater  its  knowledge,  the  greater  its  comprehension ; 
and  the  greater  its  comprehension,  the  more  will  it  reve- 
rence and  glorify  its  Creator,  who  is  seen  in  all  His  works 
The  body  must  have  exercise,  the  mind  amusement ;  and  if 
the  one  be  healthy  and  judicious,  the  other  moral  and  ra- 
tional, the  effect  will  be  to  render  the  man  b'^tter,  wiser, 
and  happier.  And  now,  my  dear  Harry,  what  do  you 
think  of  my  sentiments?" 

"  That  they  are  sensible  and  correct.  But  gvi  on  !  I 
am  anxious  to  hear  you  still  further." 

•'Pardon  me,  my  friend,  not  now,"  returned  Harley, 
gravely.    "  I  may  at  some  future  period,  but  not  now;  for, 


50  VIOLA. 


to  tell  you  the  truth,  a  very  weighty  matter  lays  upon  my 
mind." 

"  Indeed !  then  why  did  you  not  mention  it  before  ?" 

**  For  the  simple  reason,  that  I  wished  first  to  convince 
you  I  am  calm  and  sane." 

''But,  my  friend,  I  have  not  questioned  your  sanity." 

"  Not  to  day,  perhaps ;  but  you  did  yesterday,  and  1 
was  too  much  excited  to  explain.  Now,  then,  you  see  1 
am  calm  and  rational;  and  I  come  to  you  as  a  friend,  to 
know  if  you  will  enlist  yourself  in  my  service,  and  be  m^ 
companion  on  a  journey  prescribed  by  the  hand  of  fate?" 

"Alas  !"  thought  I,  "  my  friend  is  a  little  touched ;"  for 
the  very  method  he  appeared  to  have  taken  to  convince 
me  of  his  sanity,  now  led  me  to  fear  his  mind  was  not  alto- 
gether right.  But  I  determined  to  satisfy  myself  on  this 
point  by  further  questions. 

"Whither  would  you  have  me  go  ?"  I  asked. 

"First  to  Texas." 

"  And  why  to  Texas  ?" 

"  I  wish  to  meet  again  with  Viola." 

"And  pray  who  is  Viola  ?" 

"  An  angel ! — But  stop  !  I  will  drop  metaphor,  and 
speak  understandingly ;  for,  my  dear  Harry,  I  again  per- 
ceive you  doubt  of  my  being  all  right  here;"  and  he  tap- 
ped his  forehead. 

"  I  doubt  ? — why,  my  dear  Harley — " 

"  There,  do  not  deny  it,"  he  interrupted  ;  "  you  know  1 
profess  to  read  the  passing  thought  of  almost  any  mind, 
and  it  is  certainly  not  diflBcult  to  read  one  so  legibly  writ- 
ten on  the  lineaments  of  the  face  as  yours." 

"  Well,  then,  frankly,  I  own  to  the  fact,"  I  returned. 
"I  did  really  begin  to  fear  you  were  non  compos  mentis." 

"  I  like  your  candor,  Harry ;  but  I  regret  I  have  given 


HAELET.  51 


you  cause  to  think  me  of  unsound  mind,"  replied  my  friend, 
with  a  sorrowful  air. 

''  But  your  manner  was  so  strange  yesterday,  Harley  ?" 

"  I  know  it :  I  was  troubled,  excited,  but  not  mad, 
Harry ;  no,  believe  me,  I  was  not  mad.  I  could  forgive 
you  for  so  thinking  yesterday,  because  you  have  known  me 
but  a  short  time — but  what  cause  have  I  given  you  for  the 
same  opinion  to-day  ?" 

••  No  other  than  the  simple  fact,  that  you  have  talked 
gravely  here  for  some  time,  merely,  as  you  acknowledge,  to 
convince  me  you  are  sane,  as  if  you  had  some  doubts  of  it 
yourself." 

"  Ah !  that  is  true.  Well,  let  it  pass.  But  now,  seri- 
ously and  candidly — do  you,  or  do  you  not,  think  I  am  in 
my  right  mind  at  the  present  moment?" 

"  I  see  no  reason  to  doubt  it,  other  than  I  have  men- 
tioned ;  in  short,  I  will  take  your  word  for  it ;  if  you  say 
you  are,  I  will  believe  you." 

"  Then,  positively,  I  assert  I  am." 

"  Enough  !  I  am  satisfied." 

"  I  will  then  proceed  in  so  rational  a  manner,  that  you 
shall  have  no  reason  to  doubt  again.  You  ask  who  is 
Viola  ?  It  is  no  more  than  right,  since  I  wish  you  to  be 
my  companion  on  an  adventure  in  which  she  is  concerned, 
that  you  should  know  something  of  her  ;  but  you  will  par- 
don me,  if  I  only  give  you  an  outline  sketch  now,  and  leave 
the  detail,  the  filling  up,  to  some  future  period." 

My  friend  paused  a  few  moments,  as  if  to  collect  hia 
thoughts,  and  then  proceeded  with  the  following  story 


CHAPTER  V. 


VIOLA. 


"  Viola  St.  Auburn  is  the  only  daughter  of  a  wealthj 
gentleman,  who  has  of  late  years  resided  in  the  city  of 
Mexico.  Previous  to  his  removal  thither,  he  owned  and 
worked  a  large  cotton  plantation  in  the  State  of  Georgia, 
on  which  estate  Viola  was  born,  some  eighteen  or  nine- 
teen years  ago.  In  youth  my  father  and  St.  Auburn 
were  friends ;  but  unfortunately  both  loved  the  same  lady, 
grew  jealous  of  each  other,  quarrelled,  fought,  and  my 
father  was  carried  from  the  field,  as  it  was  supposed  at  the 
time,  mortally  wounded.  St.  Auburn  fled ;  but  learning 
afterward  that  my  father  was  likely  to  recover,  he  returned, 
and  subsequently  married  the  lady  who  had  innocently 
been  the  cause  of  this  rivalry  and  estrangement.  My 
father  never  forgave  him  ;  and  to  this  day  the  name  of  St. 
Auburn — no  matter  where,  by  whom,  nor  how  casually 
mentioned  in  his  hearing — always  puts  him  in  a  sort  of 
frenzy,  which  threatens  the  most  serious  consequences.  In 
our  family  it  is  a  prohibited  word,  and  is  never  spoken  in 
the  pres-ence  of  my  father,  who,  though  not  exactly  insane, 
is  judged  to  be  of  unsound  mind  by  those  who  know  him 
best ;  and  this  slight  aberration  of  intellect  is  thought  to 
date  from  his  recovery  and  the  loss  of  his  first  love. 
Some  say  that  I  inherit  my  father's  failings — but  of  that 
anon.  As  to  St.  Auburn,  though  the  successful  rival  of 
my  father,  I  believe  he  still  hates  the  latter  as  much  as  on 
the  day  he  lodged  a  bullet  in  his  side — at  least  he  never 
(52) 


VIOLA.  53 


made  any  overtures  of  reconciliation,  and  ever  since  has 
been  known  to  shun,  with  a  kind  of  horror,  all  persons 
bearing  the  name  of  Harley.  With  this  little  prelude, 
Harry,  you  will  better  understand  what  follows. 

"  It  is  about  three  years  since  I  first  saw  Viola 
St.  Auburn.  I  had  finished  my  collegiate  course,  and  was 
on  a  visit  to  a  cousin  of  mine  in  Virginia.  In  the  place 
where  he  resided  was  a  female  seminary ;  and  in  the  rear 
of  this  seminary,  was  a  rather  wild,  romantic  wood,  through 
which,  over  a  rocky  bed,  dashed  a  little  stream  of  pure 
water.  I  am  rather  of  a  romantic  turn  at  times  ;  and  one 
of  my  chief  delights,  during  the  short  stay  with  my  kins- 
man, had  been  to  steal  off  by  myself,  and  angle  in  this 
stream  for  trout.  There  was  a  quiet,  picturesque  beauty 
about  this  retreat,  that  pleased  me  more  than  any  spot  I 
had  ever  seen  ;  and  never  had  my  enjoyment  been  greater 
and  purer,  than  when  seated  on  my  favorite  rock,  with  a 
leafy  canopy  above  my  head,  a  warm,  clear  blue  sky  over 
that,  and  the  flashing,  leaping,  murmuring  waters  at  my 
feet.  Here,  pole  in  hand,  and  line  in  water,  I  used  to  sit 
for  hours,  alone,  undisturbed,  and  lost  in  a  kind  of  poetic 
reverie. 

*'  Well,  it  chanced  one  day,  while  seated  on  my  favorite 
rock,  that  I  heard  a  footstep  behind  me.  I  turned  my 
head,  without  changing  my  position,  and  behjcld  what 
seemed  to  me,  in  my  peculiar  frame  of  mind,  a  Peri  just 
dropped  from  Paradise.  But  to  speak  more  directly  to 
the  point,  I  saw  a  beautiful  maiden,  over  whose  fair,  sunny 
countenance  some  fifteen  or  sixteen  summers  had  passed. 
To  her  personal  appearance  I  cannot  do  justice,  even  now ; 
therefore,  suffice  it  to  say,  it  was  such  as  to  rivet  my  gaze, 
enchant  me,  hold  me  spell-bound,  magnetize  me,  or  what 
YOU  will.  I  saw  before  me  an  airy,  floating  form,  a 
heavenly  face,  all  guileless  and  innocent,  around  which 
4 


54  VIOLA. 


dangled  golden  curls,  and  eyes  whose  softness  and  lustre 
exceeded  my  most  perfect  ideal  creations ;  and  I  saw  and 
thought  of  nothing  else.  In  one  hand  she  carried  a  col- 
lection of  bright  flowers,  and  to  one  arm  her  bonnet  or 
hood  was  attached  by  the  strings.  She  did  not  see  me, 
for  her  eyes  were  mostly  bent  on  the  earth :  she  was  look- 
ing for  more  flowers.  I  dared  not  speak  nor  move,  lest  I 
should  break  the  spell,  and  cause  her  to  vanish  like  a 
spirit — for  I  could  not  at  the  moment  call  up  sufficient 
reason  to  satisfy  myself  that  she  was  only  mortal.  .^ 

"  Gradually  she  drew  near  the   rock,  and  at  last   stood  ■ 
at  its  very  base.     It  was  high  ;  and  as  I  was  sitting  below  3 
its  summit,  on  the   opposite  side,  I  could  not  now  see  her" 
without  changing  my  position.     I  attempted  to  do  so  with- 
out noise ;  but  my  pole  slipped,  and  splashed  in  the  water, 
just  as  I  had  brought  my  eyes  once  more  to  bear  upon  her. 
She  heard  it — it  startled  her — and  taking  a  step  or  two 
backward,  she  looked  up  timidly.     Our  eyes  now  met  for 
the  first  time ;  and  with  a  cry  of  alarm,  she  turned  to  flee. 

"'Stay,  beautiful  creature!  one  moment  stay!'  cried 
I,  leaping  from  the  rock,  intending  to  give  chase  ;  for  I 
was  so  excited  and  bewildered,  I  knew  not  what  I  did. 

"She  stopped;  and  turning  toward  me,  pale  and  trem- 
bling, exclaimed,  in  tones  of  fear ; 

"  '  Oh,  sir,  do  not  harm  me  !' 

"  '  Harm  thee,  sweet  angel !'  cried  I :  *  when  I  do,  may  ' 
Heaven  desert  me  ?     Harm  thee  ?    If  ever  such  a  thouf^ht 
enters  my  brain,  I  will  instantly  send  my  soul  to  judgment  !* 

"  '  Oh,  sir,'  she  rejoined,  still  trembling,  and  as  much 
alarmed  as  ever,  for  my  wild  manner  was  not  very  well 
calculated  to  reassure  her  :  '  Oh,  sir,  if  you  do  not  intend 
to  harm  me,  let  me  go  !  For  I  do  not  know  you- -and — 
and — and  I  am  afraid.' 

"  *  Oh,  do  not  go  yet !  not  just  yet !'  I  pleaded.     '  Stay, 


VIOLA.  5 


n 


if  only  for  a  few  minutes,  and  let  me  tell  you  how  much  1 
love  you!  No,  no,'  pursued^  I,  beginning  to  gather  my 
senses  once  more,  as  I  saw  her  start,  draw  herself  up 
proudly,  and  blush  to  the  temples :  '  No,  no,  I  did  not 
mean  '^ou — pardon  me  ! — 1  meant  Jiowers :  let  me  tell  you 
how  much  I  love  flowers  !  and  these  you  have  are  so  very, 
very  beautiful.' 

"  Had  they  been  weeds,  noxious  weeds,  they  would 
have  seemed  beautiful  to  me  then. 

''  She  now  appeared  less  alarmed  ;  and  casting  her  eyes 
— those  large,  soft,  lustrous  eyes — upon  the  ground,  repHed, 
with  the  most  perfect  naivete  : 

"  '  /,  too,  love  flowers.' 

"  Had  she  spoken  for  an  hour,  with  an  eloquence  never 
equalled,  I  could  not  have  been  more  charmed  than  by 
that  simple  sentence — those  four  little  words — '  /,  too,  love 
flowers.'  Methinks  I  hear  them  now,  as  they  dropped  in 
silvery  melody  from  her  ruby  lips.  Yes,  I  do  hear  them 
now,  and  shall  evet  hear  them,  till  this  heart  has 
ceased  to  beat.  Her  whole  soul  spoke  in  those  words — 
a  soul  pure,  guileless,  true.  It  is  useless  to  attempt  to 
describe  my  feelings  then ;  they  cannot  be  described ; 
you  might  as  well  attempt  to  paint  the  sun's  heat.  I 
can  only  say,  I  felt  I  could  worship  the  ground  she  stood 
on.  It  was  some  time  ere  I  could  add  anything  to  what 
I  had  already  said ;  not,  in  fact,  till,  with  an  embarrassed 
look,  she    turned  to   leave  me ;    then  again  I  found  my 


*' '  Stay,  thou  mortal  spirit  !  thou  fairy  thing  of  earth  V 
I  began ;  and  then  bethinking  myself,  I  changed  my 
language  and  manner,  and  added :  '  Stay,  lady  !  I  beseech 
you  1  I  wish  to  speak  of  flowers  ;'  and  forthwith  I  summoned 
all  my  floral  knowledge  to  my  aid,  and  went  oflf  in  a  strain  of 
passionate,  poetic  fervor — speaking,  to  the  best  of  my  recol- 


56  VIOLA. 


lection,  on  the  subject  named — but  surely  thinking  of  no- 
thing but  the  living  subject  before  me — the  flower  which 
must  eventually  bloom  in  Paradise. 

"  How  long  I  thus  went  on — or  how  long  I  might  have 
continued,  had  I  been  left  to  finish  of  my  own  accord — I 
cannot  say;  but  I  was  interrupted  in  a  silvery  voice, 
which  said  : 

"  You  must  excuse  me,  sir  !  I  have  already  overstayed 
my  time,  and  fear  to  remain  here  a  moment  longer.' 

"  '  But  tell  me,'  said  I,  ^  who  you  are,  and  where  you 
belong  !  for  we  must  meet  again.' 

"  *  My  father  is  a  merchant,  in  the  city  of  Mexico,'  she 
replied,  '  and  I  am  here  attending  the  seminary.  There  ! 
hark  !  I  hear  the  bell.  Oh,  sir,  I  must  fly  !  and  I  shall 
even  then  be  too  late.' 

" 'But  you  will  come  here  again  for  flowers?  I  shall 
meet  you  again  here  !'  I  said,  earnestly.  '  Oh,  do  not 
hesitate ! — say  yes — and  I  will  have  prepared  for  you  a 
beautiful  bouquet !' 

" '  I   do   not   know,'  she   replied,    hurriedly,    changing 
color.     '  I  fear  it  would  not  be   right ;    my  teacher — I- 
that  is — perhaps — I  will  think  of  it.     There,  I  must  go ; 
good-bye,  sir  ;'    and  she  bounded  away,  with  an  airy  fleet- 
ness  which  soon  took  her  from  my  sight. 

"  As  for  me,  my  first  impulse  was  to  follow  her  ;  but  for 
once  'propriety  came  to  my  aid ;  and  I  remained,  gazing  on 
the  spot  where  her  form  was  last  seen,  and  wondering  if 
ever  so  bright  a  thing  would  cross  my  vision  again.  How 
I  passed  the  day,  I  never  knew ;  but  I  did  not  return  to 
my  cousin's  till  night ;  and  was  then  so  absent-minded  as 
to  answer  his  question  concerning  my  success  in  such  a 
"^ray  as  to  lead  him  to  fear  I  was  sufi*ering  under  partial 
derangement. 

"  I  had  forgotten  to  ask  the  fair  unknown  her  name ; 


VIOLA.  57 


but  I  remembered  my  promise,  and  thought  it  must  be 
Flora,  and  so  fixed  it  in  my  mind.  The  next  day  I  was  up, 
bright  and  early,  culling  flowers,  while  yet  the  dew  lay 
n  the  grass. 

"  But  not  to  weary  you,  let  it  suffice,  that  the  maiden 
ind  I  met  on  the  same  spot ;  and  so  continued  to  meet  for 
more  than  a  month ;  but  it  was  not  till  the  fourth  meeting 
that  we  exchanged  names,  and  I  learned  that  she  was 
called  Viola  St.  Auburn.  A  few  hurried  questions  and 
answers,  now  put  us  both  in  possession  of  the  painful  truth 
that  our  fathers  were  deadly  enemies.  But  we  learned  it  too 
late.  Both  loved ;  and  the  very  fact  that  we  now  knew  we 
might  never  be  allowed  to  meet  again,  should  our  secret 
become  known  to  the  friends  of  either  party,  only  served  to 
fim  the  flame,  and  make  our  attachment  little  less  than  a 
frenzied  passion.  A  slave  to  impulse,  I  would  have 
married  Viola  at  once,  and  braved  the  consequences  ;  but 
she,  more  rational  than  I,  would  not  consent  to  a  step 
so  rash. 

"  *  Morton,'  she  replied,  one  day,  on  my  making  the 
proposition  to  her,  '  that  I  love  you  with  my  whole  soul,  I 
do  not  deny  ;  but  what  you  propose  is  folly.  I  am  young, 
and  perhaps  do  not  know  my  own  mind.  We  must  wait ; 
a  misstep  now  might  render  us  both  miserable  for  life. 
Know  this,  I  will  wed  no  other ;  but  without  my  father's 
consent,  which  you  are  not  very  likely  to  obtain,  I  will  not 
consent  to  become  yours,  till  I  have  seen  my  eighteenth 
birth-day.' 

"  '  And  then,  Viola  ?'  exclaimed  I. 

"  *  Well,  then — if — that  is — but  we  will  speak  of  that 
another  time,'  she  answered. 

"  I  have  said  that  we  met  daily  for  more  than  a  month ; 
and  during  this  time  the  secret  of  our  meeting  remained 
undiscovered.  But  at  length  it  was  found  out,  and  r^ach**-! 


08  VIOLA.. 


the  ears  of  Viola's  preceptress.  She,  being  a  prudish  old 
maid,  was  filled  with  indignant  horror  ;  and  the  father  of 
Viola  arriving  in  the  village  about  the  same  time,  to  see 
his  daughter,  the  matter  was  communicated  to  him,  with 
false  and  exaggerated  details.  You  can  judge  of  his  rage, 
on  learning  that  Viola  had  met,  clandestinely,  the  son  of 
his  most  bitter  enemy.  He  sought  me  out,  and  scrupled 
not  to  insult  me  in  the  grossest  manner.  Had  he  been 
other  than  Viola's  father,  he  would  never  have  lived  to  re- 
peat his  words.  As  it  was,  I  bore  all  in  the  best  manner  I 
could.  He  said  that  rather  than  his  daughter  should  wed 
me,  a  detested  Harley,  he  would  see  her  consigned  to  the 
tomb.  Not  satisfied  with  this,  he  wrote  an  insulting  letter 
to  my  father,  which  put  him  in  a  rage,  and  rendered  him 
a  raving  maniac  for  several  weeks.  Viola  was  then  re- 
moved, I  knew  not  whither,  and  I  went  home.  Our  brief 
period  of  happiness  seemed  passed,  to  return  no  more. 

"  I  will  pass  over  the  interview  between  my  father  and 
myself,  on  the  return  of  his  reason.  Enough  to  say,  it 
was  terrible.  I  will  not  repeat  the  remarks  of  my  rela- 
tions, who  considered  themselves  disgraced  through  me ; 
for  I  am  of  a  race  who  clan  by  blood,  subscribe  to  family 
feuds,  nurse  revenge,  to  be  glutted  b}^  their  posterity  on 
the  posterity  of  their  enemies,  and  who  regard  an  insult 
to  one  of  their  name,  as  an  insult  to  all,  and  no  disgrace 
equal  to  that  of  settling  a  quarrel  other  than  by  blood. 

"  Picture  to  yourself,  Harry,  how  I  was  received,  when 
it  became  known  that  I  had  ever  seriously  thought  of  unit- 
ing myself  by  marriage  to  the  daughter  of  my  father's 
enemy  !  Why,  would  you  believe  it,  my  friend,  I  was  actu- 
ally afraid  of  assassination — for  they  would  sooner  have 
killed  me,  than  had  me  wed  Viola  ;  and  it  w^as  only  by 
accident  I  discovered  a  plot,  whereby  I  was  to  be  trapped 
into  such  peculiarity  of  speech,  (they  understood  my  nature 


VIOLA.  59 


and  how  to  work  on  it,)  that  two  physicians  in  attendance 
would  be  able  to  give  the  necessary  papers  for  my  commit- 
ment to  a  mad-house.  But  I  knew  their  kind  intent  in 
time  to  foil  them  ;  and  foil  them  I  did,  to  their  chagrin  and 
dismay  ;  for  I  turned  the  tables  on  them  ;  and  had  I  fol- 
lowed up  my  advantage,  they  would  have  found  the  con- 
sequences very  serious. 

"  Well,  to  pass  on,  I  made  an  arrangement  with  my 
father,  to  giro  me  my  portion  in  money.  This  sum  I 
safely  invested  ;  and  the  interest,  which  is  paid  me  semi- 
annually in  this  city,  is  sufficient  for  all  my  expenses. 

"  Six  months  after  leaving  home — which  I  did  with  the 
hope  that  travelling,  change  of  scene,  and  amusement  of 
various  kinds,  would  tranquillize  my  mind — I  again  saw 
Viola.  You,  Harry,  would  say  we  met  by  accident ;  so 
would  most  persons.  But,  sir,  it  was  not  by  accident. 
No,  so  "surely  as  there  is  a  Power  above  us,  I  believe  our 
meeting  was  by  the  hand  of  destiny ;  there  is  a  fate  divid- 
ing and  uniting  us.  It  happened  thus :  I  was  passing 
through  an  inland  town  in  Tennessee,  where  there  was  a 
large  female  seminary.  I  stopped  beside  the  gate,  which 
opened  into  a  beautiful  enclosure,  to  look  at  the  building 
and  admire  the  surrounding  scenery.  A  female  brushed 
past  me,  and  put  her  hand  upon  the  gate.  In  the  act  of 
opening  it,  she  turned  her  head.  Our  eyes  met.  It  was 
Viola.  What  followed,  beyond  her  fainting  in  my  arms,  I 
must  tell  you  some  other  time — at  least  not  now.  Suffice 
it,  for  the  present,  that  I  promised  to  leave  her,  and  not 
to  seek  her  again  till  she  had  passed  her  minority.  She 
said  that,  should  her  father  learn  we  had  met  again,  it 
might  cost  her  her  life — that  was  argument  enough  for 
me. 

"  Well,  since  then,  I  have  been  an  unhappy  wanderer — 
gay  at  times,  to  the  height  of  folly — gloomy,  *at  times,  to 


60  VIOLA. 


a  depth  of  despair  bordering  on  madness.  But,  Harry, 
you  know  what  I  am ;  though,  my  dear  friend,  I  must  in 
justice  say,  I  have  been  more  like  myself  during  our  brief 
companionship,  than  for  a  long  time  previous.  I  look  upon 
you  as  a  friend — you  must  remain  my  friend.  Yes,  I  read 
you  aright — you  will.  God  bless  you  !  I  will  make  you 
ray  confidant :  I  am  doing  so  now :  you  are  the  first. 
Pardon  me  these  tears  !  Do  not  think  me  weak  because  I 
weep ;  but  you  know  not  what  a  blessing  it  is  to  have  a 
friend  to  whom  you  can  unbosom  yourself — into  whose 
sympathizing  soul  you  can  pour  your  pent  up  griefs,  and 
take  counsel  in  return.  You  do  not  know  the  value  of 
such  a  friend,  because  you  have  never  felt  the  need  of  one : 
your  life  has  been  sunshine — mine  storm. 

"  Ere  you  and  I  met  on  the  boat  at  Louisville,  I  had 
resolved  on  going  to  Mexico.  For  two  reasons.  That  I 
might  have  some  wild,  exciting  adventures,  and  again  see 
Viola.  I  had  not  seen  her  since  we  parted  in  Tennessee  ; 
and  I  doubted  not,  her  education  finished,  she  had  gone 
home  to  her  father.  I  knew  she  was  now  of  age  ;  and,  if 
such  a  thing  were  possible,  I  was  resolved  on  seeing  her, 
and  leaving  the  rest  to  fate. 

"  But  fate  has  favored  me.  I  saw  her  yesterday,  when 
I  least  expected  it.  Do  you  wonder  I  was  excited  ? 
Were  you  me,  would  you  have  been  less  so  ?  She  passed 
me  in  a  carriage.  It  was  going  fast,  and  I  only  caught  a 
bare  glimpse  of  her  features  as  she  went  by.  But  two 
years  had  not  altered  them  beyond  my  recognition,  though 
time  has  done  much  in  her  favor.  She  is  more  mature — 
more  in  bloom — is  paler,  and  more  spiritual. 

"  Well,  I  followed  that  carriage, — how  ? — let  my  gar- 
ments, soiled  with  dust  and  mud,  answer.  It  stopped  on 
the  Levee  ;  and  I  saw  the  idol  of  my  dreams — the  object 
of  my  hopes  and  fears — escorted  on  board  a  steamer  by 


VIOLA.  61 


her  father.  I  went  aboard.  Fate  still  favored  me.  Her 
father  left  her  side  for  a  couple  of  minutes,  and  I  made 
myself  known.     She  almost  fainted,  but  recovered. 

"  *  Not  a  word,'  she  gasped,  *  or  we  are  lost !  Go — my 
father — Galveston.' 

"  She  could  articulate  no  more.  I  saw  her  father  re- 
turning ;  and  merely  saying,  I  will  be  there,  I  turned 
away. 

"  Harry,  my  friend,  another  steamer  goes  out  to-day  at 
four  o'clock.     I  leave  on  that.     Will  you  go  with  me  ?" 

"  I  will,"  cried  I. 

"  God  bless  you  !  your  hand  !"  and  as  my  friend  wrung 
it  heartily,  I  saw  his  eyes  fill  with  tears. 

Two  hours  later,  Morton  Harley  and  your  humble  ser- 
vant, reader,  were  steaming  it  down  the  Mississippi  to  the 
Gulf— bound  for  Galveston,  Texas — and,  as  the  sequel 
proved,  for  some  rather  strange  and  thrilling  adven- 
tures. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


PERPLEXITY   AND    MYSTERY. 


It  Avas  on  a  fine,  beautiful  morning,  that  we  landed  at 
Galveston,  .ni'l  had  our  luggage  transferred  to  one  of  its 
most  flourishing  hotels.  The  place  seemed  lively ;  and 
there  were  two  or  three  companies  of  soldiers  parading 
the  streets,  prior  to  their  departure  to  join  the  Army  of 
Occupation,  at  Corpus  Christi,  under  Taylor.  Citizens 
were  abroad  in  large  numbers,  and  a  good  deal  of  enthusi- 
asm prevailed,  as  was  natural  there  should,  considering 
thatJTexas,  after  a  hard,  bloody,  and  lonely  struggle  of 
years,  had  recently  been  annexed  to  our  great  American 
Republic,  and  these  soldiers  were  on  the  eve  of  joining 
Taylor's  gallant  band,  now  on  her  southern  frontier,  to 
protect  her  against  the  hostile  invasion  of  her  bitter  foes, 
the  Mexicans. 

On  our  way  hither,  much  of  the  conversation  between 
ILirley  and  myself  had  been  concerning  Viola  ;  in  fact, 
she  was  the  subject  which  ever  lay  uppermost  in  his  mind; 
and  now,  the  ice  being  broken,  he  spoke  with  unreserved 
fueedom,  made  me  his  confidant  in  everything,  sought  my 
advice,  and  I  became  a  participator  in  all  his  hopes  and 
fears.  But  one  thing  troubled  both  of  us.  If  she  had 
come  to  Galveston,  as  he  inferred  from  her  broken  language 
on  the  boat  she  intended  to  do,  how  were  we  to  find  her  ? 
Had  she  relations  here?  She  might  have,  but  Harley 
knew  of  none,  and  therefore  was  at  a  total  loss  for  any 
clue  to  her  present  wliereabouts.     The  more  we  pondered 


PERPLEXITY    AND   MYSTERY.  63 

upon  the  matter  of  finding  her,  the  more  perplexing  it 
grew,  till  at  last  Harley  declared  it  was  useless  to  spend 
our  breath  in  mere  conjecture,  and  that  we  must  leave  all 
to  Fate,  in  which,  as  I  have  shown,  he  was  a  firm  believer. 
"  Well,  my  friend,"  said  1,  as  we  arrived  at  the  hotel 
alluded  to,  "  we  are  here  at  last ;  and  now  what  do  you 
propose  ?  Shall  we  sit  quietly  down,  and  trust  to  Fate  to 
accomplish  our  desires  ?  Or  shall  we  begin  an  active 
search  for  the  object  of  our  solicitude  ?" 

"Ay,  Harry,  there  is  the  difficulty;  how,  where,  or  in 
what  manner  can  we  begin  a  search  for  her  ?" 

'*  Well,  an  idea  has  struck  me.  It  is  not  improbable 
that,  if  Viola  and  her  father  have  come  hither  at  all,  they 
have  put  up  at  some  of  the  hotels ;  and  it  would  perhaps 
be  as  well  to  begin  with  the  registers,  and  make  inquiries." 
"By  Jove,  Harry,  you  are  right  I"  cried  Harley,  grasp- 
mg  my  hand;  "how  dull  I  am  not  to  have  thought  of  it 
before.  Come,  let  us  begin  at  once;"  and  we  did  so  ac- 
cordingly. 

Our  first  inquiry,  of  course,  was  at  the  hotel  where  we 
were  stopping.  The  clerk  remembered  no  such  persons, 
and  there  was  no  St.  Auburn  on  the  register.  We  re- 
paired to  another,  and  met  with  like  success.  At  the  third, 
to  our  great  joy,  we  found  recorded  Henry  St.  Auburn 
and  daughter. 

"Harry,"  said  Harley,  grasping  my  arm,  his  face  pale 
with  emotion.  "  you  must  find  out  if  they  are  now  here ; 
and  if  not,  whither  they  have  gone.  I  will  sit  down — I 
feel  faint." 

A  few  minutes  sufiBced  to  get  all  the  knowledge  concern- 
ing the  St.  Auburns  which  the  obliging  landlord  possessed. 
Such  persons  had  been  there,  stopped  one  day,  and  had  gone 
North,  but  whither  he  could  not  say.  I  reported  to 
Harley. 


64  VIOLA. 


"  So,  being  gone,  I  am  a  man  again,"  he  replied,  in  the 
language  of  Macbeth.  "  Harry,''  he  continued,  starting 
up  almost  wildly,  '^1  feared  they  were  here ;  and  now  that 
they  are  not,  I  would  give  a  handsome  sum  they  were — - 
so  inconsistent  are  we  human  puppets.  Well,  we  must  fol- 
low them ;  it  is  something  to  be  on  their  trail,  as  the 
hunters  say  ;  and  see  Viola  again,  I  must ;  and.  Heaven 
help  me  !  I  will." 

"But  how  are  we  to  follow,"  I  rejoined,  "when  we 
know  not  which  way  they  went  ?" 

"  Man,  we  do  know  they  went  to  the  North — did  not  the 
landlord  tell  you  so  ?  and,  by  my  hopes  of  earthly  happi- 
ness !  I  will  search  the  North,  though  it  be  to  the  ice- 
bound pole,  but  I  will  find  Viola !" 

"  Now,  Harley,  you  are  getting  excited  again.  I  pray 
you  be  calm." 

"  Well,  and  so  I  am — but  what  would  you  have  me  do  ? 
Sit  quietly  here,  when,  for  aught  I  know,  she  needs  my 
protecting  arm?  She  bade  me  come  to  this  city:  I  have 
done  so :  and  by  that  same  token,  she  bids  me  follow  till  I 
find  her  " 

"  But  what  do  you  propose  to  do  ?" 

"  Set  off  northward,  and  use  my  tongue.  Zounds ! 
Harry,  what  were  tongues  made  for  but  to  ask  questions  ? 
legs  but  to  run?  and  arms  but  to  fight?  all  of  which  I  will 
use  in  the  cause  of  her  I  love,  if  necessary,  so  help  me 
Heaven !  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  you,  who  not  an  hour 
since  counselled  me  to  activity,  would  surely  not  gainsay 
your  advice  now?" 

"  By  no  means ;  but  I  counselled  you  to  begin  hyste- 
matically ;  you  did  so,  and  the  result  is  that  we  have  found 
a  trace  of  her  we  seek." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  let  us  continue  as  we  have  begun." 


PERPLEXITY   AND   MYSTERY.  65 

"What  have  I  asked  for  else  ?" 

"Why,  from  your  manner,  I  inferred  you  were  about  to 
set  off,  madman  like,  to  hunt  the  country  over,  as  if  in 
Bearch  of  a  lost  animal." 

"  Come,  come,"  replied  Harley,  good  humoredly,  "  a 
joke  is  a  joke;  *but  no  more  of  that,  Hal,  an  thou  lovest 
me.'  Now  tc  begin  seriously.  They  left  for  the  North — 
good — consequently  have  gone  up  the  Bay,  or  crossed  over 
to  the  mainland  by  ferry.  Now  I  wager  you  what  you 
dare,  that  I  find  out  which,  ere  I  quit  this  hotel." 

"  Well,  now  at  least  you  are  talking  rationally,  and  con- 
ducting yourself  in  a  sensible  manner.  Come,  here  is  the 
landlord — let  us  settle  the  matter." 

The  latter,  on  being  requestioned,  replied  that,  at  the 
time  the  parties  left,  he  was  absent ;  but  the  porter,  who  had 
the  handling  of  the  luggage,  would  probably  know  some- 
thing of-  them.  The  porter  was  called ;  and  from  him  we 
learned  that  persons  answering  the  description  Harley  gave 
of  Viola  and  her  father,  had  left  two  days  before,  in  a 
private  carriage,  and  crossed  over  to  the  mainland;  but 
what  direction  they  had  taken  thence,  or  what  place  was 
to  be  their  destination,  he  could  not  say. 

"  You  see,"  said  Harley  to  me,  triumphantly,  "  we  have 
the  right  starting  point,  and  that  is  everything  in  a  case 
like  this.  Of  what  color  were  the  horses  and  carriage, 
porter?" 

"  Well,  sir,  the  horses  were  sorrel,  sir,  with  two  white 
Btars  right  in  front  of  their  foreheads,  sir." 

"And  the  carriage  ?" 

"  Was  a  big,  lumbering  thing,  so'thing  like  a  hackney, 
sir,  only  it  wasn't  a  hackney." 

"But  the  color?" 

"It  was  painted  dark  green,  and  had  yaller  streaks 
round  it,  and  on  the  doors  was  painted  two  picters." 

6 


66  VIOLA. 


^''What  were  the  pictures  like  ?" 

"  Well,  thej  wasn't  like  anything  J  ever  seen  afore,  sir ; 
there  was  a  heap  o'  things  all  kind  o'  jumbled  up 
together." 

"  Were  the  pictures  alike  ?" 

''  Yes,  sir,  I  reckon  they  was." 

''Should  you  judge  them  to  be  a  coat-of-arms  ?" 

"  Well,  they  mought  be — though  I  don't  exactly  know 
how  a  coat-of-arms  looks." 

"  It  was  a  private  carriage,  then  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  said  so;  and  the  owner  was  with  it,  I 
reckon :  leastways  there  was  a  gentleman  inside,  as  got 
out  and  helped  the  lady  in,  and  then  got  in  agin  with  the 
tother  gentleman." 

"  The  lady,  you  say,  was  young  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  so  handsome  !  I've  seen  a  good  many 
handsome  ladies,  one  time  and  another,  but  she  beat  'em 
all.     Poor  thing !     I  pitied  her,  I  did." 

"Pitied  her?  why  so?" 

"'Cause  she  looked  so  sad  and  troubled,  and  seemed  to 
feel  so  bad." 

"Indeed?"  exclaimed  Harley,  beginning  to  grow  very 
much  excited.  "  Indeed  ?  say  you  that  ?  Did  she  not 
seem  pleased  at  leaving  with  the  strange  gentleman?" 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,  sir — quite  the  contrary  :  she  kept  look- 
ing all  round,  as  if  she  was  thinking  about  gitting  away — 
leastways  I  thought  so ;  and  arter  she'd  got  in,  I  seen  her 
cover  her  face  with  her  handkercher." 

"  By  my  hopes  !  this  is  strange  !"  exclaimed  Harley. 
"  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Harry  ?" 

"I  do  not  know  what  to  think,"  I  replied. 

"Perhaps  her  father  is  about  forcing  her  to  marry  some 
one  she  detests,"  returned  my  friend,  uneasily.  "Let 
him,  if  he  dare  !"  he  pursued,  setting  his  teeth  hard,  and 


PERPLEXITY   AND   MYSTERY.  67 

hissing  out  the  words,  while  his  eyes  shone  with  a  wild 
light.  "  Ay,  sir,  let  him  !  he  shall  find  another  Harley 
as  implacable  a  foe  as  the  first.  If  he  wrong  her,  though 
he  be  her  father,  he  shall  answer  for  it  wdth  his  heart's 
blood !" 

"Morton  !"  cried  I,  perceiving  that  my  friend  was  fast 
working  himself  into  a  frenzy  ;  "remember  where  you  are, 
and  control  your  passion!  You  may  be  all  wrong  in  your 
conjectures." 

"  More  likely  right,  Harry  ;  though  I  will  take  your  ad- 
vice, and  be  calm  now,  for  it  is  necessary  to  my  purpose. 
But  only  let  me  know  he  has  misused  her,  and  he  will  find 
that  he  who  bore  his  insults  for  her  sake  once,  will  remem- 
ber old  scores  in  the  final  settlement.  Well,  porter,  this 
carriage — have  you  no  idea  to  whom  it  belongs,  and  where 
it  came  from  ?" 

"No,  sir — never  saw  it  afore." 

"  Did  it  stop  here  any  time  ?"• 

"  Not  more'n  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  sir.  It  was  driv  up 
by  a  white  chap  in  livery ;  and  the  gentleman  as  had  the 
young  lady,  'pear*d  to  be  looking  for't ;  for  he  went  right 
up  to  the  door,  and  spoke  to  him  that  was  inside ;  then  he 
hurried  back  into  the  house ;  and  a  little  arter  the  young  lady 
came  down  stairs,  and  got  in,  as  I  told  you ;  while  I  put  on 
the  baggage-,  two  trunks  and  a  carpet-bag." 

But  little  more  of  importance  was  elicited  from  the  por- 
ter; and  Harley,  putting  a  half-dollar  in  his  hand,  dismissed 
him. 

"Harry,"  said  my  friend,  grasping  my  hand,  as  we 
gained  the  street — "  can  I  depend  on  you  ?" 

"To  the  death." 

"  Again  I  repeat,  God  bless  you !  You  know  I  pro- 
mised you  adventure ;  and  now,  methinks,  we  are  about  to 
have  it,  though  of  a  difi*erent  kind  to  that  I  then  antici- 


68  VIOLA. 


pated.  Hark  you!  lam  satisfied  there  is  some  dark  plot 
against  Viola ;  I  am  convinced  her  father  is  base  enough 
for  anything ;  and  I  am  determined  to  find  and  bear  hei 
ofi*,  in  spite  of  him  or  aught  human." 

"And  you  may  count  on  my  assistance,"  replied  I, 
already  taking  a  deep  interest  in  one  I  had  never  seen. 
"  But,  Morton,  we  have  much  to  do,  I  think,  and  something 
must  be  done  first — what  shall  it  be  ?" 

**  The  first  thing  to  be  done,  Harry,  is  to  find  Viola." 

"  True — but  how  shall  we  set  about  it  ?" 

"  We  must  trace  that  carriage  by  inquiry." 

"  True  again  ;  but  shall  we  ride,  or  set  off  afoot  ?" 
,  "Well,  as  to  that,  give  me  your  advice." 

"Then,"  said  I,  "I  think  we  had  better  leave  our  lug- 
gage where  it  is  for  the  present,  and  take  only  such  things 
as  can  be  put  into  a  vahse  or  carpet-bag,  which  Tom  can 
carry,  and  begin  our  search  on  foot.  We  shall  thus  be 
more  likely  to  get  the  information  we  want ;  and  when  ob- 
tained, if  direct  and  important,  we  can  always  hasten  our 
progress,  by  hiring  such  conveyance  on  the  road  as  will 
best  accelerate  it — and  this  plan  will  leave  us  without 
other  care  than  for  ourselves." 

"  You  are  right,  Harry ;  your  advice  is  good,  and  I  will 
act  upon  it.  But  when  shall  we  set  out  ?  I  am  impatient, 
you  see." 

"  In  an  hour,  if  you  like.  I  am  ready,  and,  truth  said, 
impatient  also  to  be  on  the  road." 

My  friend  grasped  my  hand  again,  and  wrung  it 
heartily. 

"  Harry,"  he  said,  tears  starting  into  his  eyes,  "it  was 
a  blessed  day  for  me  on  which  Fate  brought  us  together. 
I  am  not  ungrateful — as,  if  we  both  live,  I  will  some  time 
prove  to  you.  Oh,  Viola!  if  I  could  have  received  one 
word  from  her  relative  to  this  mystery  !     But  I  will  solve 


PERPLEXITY   AND    MYSTERY.  69 

it,  or  die  in  the  attempt.  How  unfortunate,  Harry,  there 
was  no  way  of  getting  here  sooner  than  we  did ;  but  per- 
haps it  is  all  for  the  best ;  though^  could  I  have  had  one 
minute's  uninterrupted  conversation  with  her — " 

My  fi'iend  stopped  suddenly  ;  his  eyes  dilated,  grew  wild, 
and  became  fixed  on  some  distant  object ;  a  singular  look 
of  hope  and  fear  lighted  his  pale  countenance  ;  and  merely 
adding,  "Wait  for  me  !"  he  bounded  away  down  the  street, 
as  if  life  and  death  depended  on  his  fleetness. 

As  much  as  I  had  seen  of  his  strange  manner,  this 
proceeding,  I  must  confess,  startled  me,  while  it  excited  my 
curiosity ;  and  I  started  after  him — not  to  overtake  him — 
but,  if  possible,  to  keep  him  in  sight.  I  soon  lost  trace  of 
him  in  a  crowd  that  was  collected  before  a  public  building, 
which  I  ascertained  was  the  ppst-office.  After  vainly 
searching  for  him  some  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  I  concluded 
to  return  to  our  hotel,  thinking  I  should  be  likely  to  find 
him  there  sooner  than  elsewhere.  On  reaching  the  steps 
that  led  up  to  the  portico,  what  was  my  surprise,  to  see 
Harley  come  bounding  down  to  meet  me.  His  eyes  glared 
like  a  madman's,  and  his  features  were  distorted  with  ex- 
citement. 

"  Quick,  Harry  !"  he  cried,  grasping  my  arm — "  I  have 
been  nearly  wild  to  see  you.  Why  did  you  not  stay  whore 
I  left  you?     Up  stairs,  quick  !  to  a  private  chamber." 

"In  Heaven's  name  !  what  has  happened?  what  is  the 
matter  ?"exclaimed  I,  as  I  rushed  up  stairs  with  him,  two 
at  a  time,  leaving  a  crowd  behind  to  stare  after  us,  and 
wonder  at  our  excitement. 

"Inhere!"  cried  Harley,  darting  into  a  bed-chamber; 
and  as  I  crossed  the  threshold,  he  shut  the  door  and  locked 
it. 

"Are  you  really  mad,  Harley  ?"  cried  I,  growing  alarmed 
in  earnest. 
5 


70  VIOLA. 


"  Ko,  no,  Harry — not  mad — but  terribly  excited.  I  can 
hardly  contain  myself.  Joy  and  rage  are  strange  feel- 
ings to  clash  in  one's  breast.  Ah,  fate  !  fate  !  triumphant 
to  the  last !  It  was  a  happy  thought — blessed  thought ! 
and  I  could  shout  for  joy,  and  at  the  same  time  say,  '  Let 
him  beware  !'  But  I  am  keeping  you  wondering,  when  this, 
this,  this,  will  explain  the  mystery;"  and  Harley  thrust 
into  my  hand  a  letter,  and  throwing  himself  upon  the  bed, 
added:  "Read!  read!" 

I  was  not  long  in  following  his  injunctions,  as  the 
reader  will  readily  believe.  One  glance  at  the  epistle  and 
I  comprehended  all.    It  ran  thus  : 

"  Dear  Morton — We  meet  strangely — we  have  from 
the  first — and  since  I  saw  you  on  the  boat  at  New  Orleans, 
I  have  thought  there  may  be  such  a  thing  as  a  special  Provi- 
dence. Oh,  Morton,  if  you  love  me — if  you  ever  loved 
me — forsake  me  not  now !  Till  I  saw  you  last,  despair  had 
for  months  sat  like  an  incubus  upon  my  heart.  Hope  had 
fled  me,  and  in  vain  I  labored  to  lure  her  back.  She  came 
with  you  ;  and  since  then  has  fluttered  in  sight,  but  ready 
to  take  wing  and  leave  me  forever.  You,  Morton,  and 
hope,  are  so  united,  that  neither  can  come  alone.  Oh, 
misery  !  misery  !  how  well  I  know  the  meaning  of  the  term  ! 
What  shall  I  say  of  the  past  ?  I  could  pour  out  my  soul 
to  you  in  words,  were  we  together ;  but  I  can  say  nothing 
on  paper.  Yet  something  I  must  say.  My  mother  is  dead. 
My  father — oh  !  that  he  better  deserved  the  name  ! — what 
fihall  I  say  of  him  ?  Morton,  to  be  brief,  my  father  has 
sold  me  to  a  man  I  detest,  and  is  now  on  his  way  to  de- 
liver me  to  m^  purchaser.  In  other  words,  and  to  speak 
without  enigma,  my  father,  having  failed  in  business,  is  re- 
solved to  retrieve  his  fortune  by  disposing  of  my  hand  to 
ft  French  count,  who  boasts  of  a  distant  connection  with 


PERPLEXITY  AND   MYSTERY.  71 

Louis  Philippe.  He  is  rich,  and  owns  a  country  seat  some- 
where near  the  Brazos ;  but  I  cannot  direcfr  you  to  it,  nor 
do  I  even  know  the  vicinity.  I  only  know  it  is  called 
D'Estang  Ville.  You  may  perhaps  find  it  from  the  name 
— that  is,  should  you  care  to  trouble  yourself  about  it. 
Thither  I  am  to  be  transported  ;  and  once  there,  my  father 
has  solemnly  sworn  I  shall  become  the  wife  of  D'Estang, 
or  take  the  alternative  of  ending  my  days  in  a  convent,  in 
the  interior  of  Mexico.  Of  the  two,  my  choice  is  already 
made.  I  will  never  wed  this  count.  Morton,  my  hope  is 
in  you,  or  death.  If  you  fail  me,  the  latter  may  not.  1 
would  not  die  now — but  can  I  live  a  life  of  misery  ?  I 
have  knelt  and  prayed  to  my  father  to  forego  his  terrible 
resolve.  In  vain.  He  is  inexorable.  Oh !  how  he  has 
changed  of  late !  He  is  another  being.  Mother  and 
wealth  were  his  idols.  One  is  dead — the  other  lost ;  and 
now  he  would  rebuild  his  fortune!  on  the  crushed  hopes  and 
broken  heart  of  his  only  child.  He  cannot  love  me,  Mor- 
ton, and  I  have  learned  to  fear  him.  Could  he  have  loved 
/ny  mother  ?  If  so,  why  am  I  treated  thus  ?  Of  M. 
D'Estang — he  once  visited  my  father  in  the  city  of  Mexico. 
I  was  then  a  child — but  it  seen.is  he  conceived  a  passion 
for  me  even  then,  which  yenrs  have  strengthened  rather 
than  weakened.  I  say  pnssion;  for  had  he  ever  loved,  he 
would  not  huy  me  like  a  slave  now.  How  he  and  my  fa- 
ther met  within  a  year,  and  how  one  bought  and  the  other 
sold  me,  I  cannot  tell  you  now — perhaps  I  may  when  we 
meet,  should  God  permit  us  to  meet  again  on  earth.  My 
hand  trembles,  and  tears  dim  my  eyes.  Morton,  dear 
Morton,  I  cannot  write  more.  I  have  stolen  away  to  do 
this.  Will  it  ever  reach  you  ?  and  can  you  assist  me  if  it 
does  ?  Oh,  Morton,  by  the  sweet  past !  by  our  then  happy 
hopes  of  the  future !  I  conjure  you  to  come  to  my  aid ! 
But  you  must  come  disguised.     If  seen  and  recognised,  I 


72  VIOLA. 


verily  believe  your  life  will  be  taken.     It  is  fearful  to  think 
80,  Morton — it  is  terrible  !     No  more. 

"  Your  own,  VIOLA. 

"  P.  S. — Since  writing  the  foregoing,  I  have  seen  my 
father,  and  learned  that  M.  D'Estang  is  to  meet  us  here, 
and  that  we  are  to  leave  in  his  private  carriage.  May 
Heaven  help  me  !  V." 

This  letter  was  written  in  a  neat,  but  trembling  hand, 
and  it  seemed  as  if  the  writer  had  often  paused  to  give  vent 
in  tears  to  the  grief  of  her  overcharged  soul.  In  fact,  in 
more  than  one  place,  there  was  a  slight  stain,  as  if  tears 
had  fallen  on  the  papei|  Poor  Viola !  from  my  soul  I 
pitied  her ;  and  I  silently  vowed  I  would  save  her  or  perish 
in  the  attempt. 

"  Well,"  cried  Harley,  the  moment  I  had  finished  its 
perusal — "  what  think  you  now  ?  You  see  my  conjecture 
was  right.  Ah,  sir,  the  heart  is  often  before  reason  in  its 
own  affairs.  Well,  Harry,  do  you  blame  me  now  for  being 
excited  ?" 

"  No,"  said  I ;  "  but  how  came  you  by  this  letter  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  in  a  word.  While  I  stood  talking  with 
you,  my  eye  chanced  to  light  upon  the  post-office ;  and, 
blessed  idea  !  I  thought  it  possible  Viola  had  written. 
That  thought  was  almost  maddening ;  I  could  not  stop  to 
explain  ;  I  rushed  away,  and  you  know  the  rest.  But 
come  !  come  !  we  waste  time  here.  We  now  have  a  clue  to 
Viola's  whereabouts ;  and  I  solemnly  swear  to  set  her  free, 
or  leave  my  bones  upon  the  soil  of  Texas  !  Poor  Viola ! 
what  has  she  not  suffered  !  And  such  di.  father  !  'Sdeath  ! 
Harry,  I  must  not  think,  or  I  shall  unfit  myself  to  act. 
Come,  now  to  the  purpose.  We  must  change  our  first  plan 
of  travelling  as  gentlemen,  and  take  to  an  humble  calling. 


PERPLEXITY   AND   MYSTERY.  ^     73 

What  say  you  to  an  itinerant  occupation  ?  what  say  you  to 
that  of  a  peddler  ?" 

I  agree  to  anything,  Harley,  that  will  enable  as  to 
accomplish  our  design.  As  to  turning  peddler,  I  like  the 
idea ;  for  in  this  capacity,  our  real  motives  will  not  only 
be  effectually  concealed,  but  we  can  travel  in  what  manner 
we  please,  without  exciting  impertinent  curiosity,  and  can 
force  ourselves  among  rich  and  poor,  high  and  low,  and  see 
society  exactly  as  it  is." 

"You  are  right  in  that,  Harry;  and  I  have  oft<*n 
thought  that  but  for  the  name  of  it,  I  should  like  the  call- 
ing ;  for  instead  of  beholding  society  continually  from  one 
point  of  view,  as  one  beholds  the  representations  of  the 
stage,  we  could  thus,  as  it  were,  step  behind  the  scenes, 
and  see  the  actors  as  they  really  are.  Of  all  men,  to 
understand  human  nature,  give  me  the  humble  itinerants  ;  for 
where  we,  as  gentlemen,  see  society  already  made  up,  they 
see  the  making  up  ;  and  what  from  our  point  of  observa- 
tion looks  gold  and  silver,  they,  from  a  closer  inspection, 
know  to  be  only  tinsel.  The  man  or  woman  who  would 
greet  us  with  smiles  and  flattery,  in  our  proper  characters, 
would  perhaps  turn  from  us  wuth  scorn,  should  we  present 
ourselves  to  them  as  peddlers ;  and  yet  we  and  they  would 
be  the  same  individuals,  with  the  same  souls,  the  same 
thoughts  and  feelings,  hopes  and  fears — the  only  difference 
being  in  position — to  them  the  all  important  consideration 
of  life  ;  and  as  you  observe,  we  should  see  them  as  they 
are,  for  the  simple  reason  that  before  objects  so  humble 
there  would  be  nd^necessity  of  wearing  masks.  Oh  !  the 
mockeries,  mummeries,  trickeries,  and  deceits  of  mankind, 
Harry,  would  make  misanthropes  of  such  as  you  and  I, 
when  once  initiated  into  the  secret  extent  of  hypocrisy, 
were  it  not  that  in  finding  out  the  bad,  where  we  looked  for 
Bomething  better,  we  discover  by  the  same  means  so  much 


74  yiOLA. 


that  is  good  and  deserving,  which  else  had  remained 
unknown,  like  flowers  that  struggle  upward  among  weeds, 
but  never  reach  the  sunshine.  But  come  !  come  !  we  must 
not  stop  now  to  indite  homilies  or  moralize.  We  have 
work  before  us — let  us  be  up  and  doing." 

And  forthwith  we   set   about   preparing   for   our   new 
vocation. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 


THE   DISGUISE. 


Notwithstanding  -we  were  very  diligent,  employing 
every  moment,  it  was  late  in  the  day  when  we  were  ready 
to  set  out  on  our  journey.  By  this  time,  however,  every 
thing  was  prepared ;  and  having  donned  a  plain  suit,  and 
packed  our  more  costly  wearing  apparel  in  our  trunks, 
which  we  consigned  to  the  care  of  our  landlord ;  and 
having  procured  a  couple  of  peddler's  boxes  for  jewelry, 
and  laid  in  a  tolerably  fair  stock  for  trade  or  show,  which 
we  gave  in  charge  of  Tom,  together  with  a  well-filled  valise 
of  clothing  necessary  to  a  change ;  we  procured  a  convey- 
ance to  a  small  village  on  the  mainland,  which  we  reached 
just  as  the  setting  sun  was  streaming  across  Galveston 
Bay,  and  turning  its  waters  to  gold.  "We  drove  to  the 
principal  inn  of  the  village,  ordered  supper,  and  put  up  for 
the  night. 

"  To-morrow,"  said  Harley,  gaily,  as  together  we  sat  at 
the  tea-table :  "  To-morrow,  Harry,  we  begin  our  adven- 
tures in  reality ;  at  least  we  begin  a  new  business  ;  and  I 
am  as  impatient  to  be  on  the  road,  as  ever  a  child  was  to 
see  new  toys.  By  my  faith,  Harry,  I  sometimes  think  we 
are  as  much  children  at  five-and-twenty  as  at  five — the  only 
difference  being,  that  we  are  older,  and  larger,  and  require 
bigger  play-things.  I  wonder  what  kind  of  a  salesman  I 
shall  make.  Faith  !  I  see  myself  at  it  now.  '  Some  very 
«xtra  fine  jewelry,  madam — earrings,  brooches,  chains,  finger 
rmgS' — very  beautiful,    I   assure  you — will  you   have  the 

(75) 


76  VIOLA. 


goodness  to  look  at  them  ?'  Ha,  ha,  ha !  what  do  you 
think  of  that,  Harry,  eh  !  for  a  commencement  ?  Come,  a 
wager  !  a  wager  !  if  you  dare  !" 

"Name  it." 

"  A  week's  keeping  on  the  roaa,  that  I  beat  you  in  to- 
morrow's profits !" 

"Done!"  returned  I,  laughing  at  the  idea  that  already 
we  were    beorinninor  to  be   ambitious  to  excel  in  our  new 

o  o 

vocation.  "  But,  Morton,  you  will  not  forget  Viola  ? 
Remember  that  profit  is  less  an  object  with  us  than  speed 
in  our  search." 

"Ay,  true;  but  I  do  not  forget  that.  It  may  be 
necessary,  in  order  to  succeed  in  our  design,  that  we  under- 
stand the  business  we  profess,  and  practice  alone  will  make 
us  perfect.  Nor  is  speed  so  very  important  as  you  might 
at  first  thought  suppose ;  for  they  will  not  use  force  with 
Viola — they  dare  not ;  and,  without  force,  she  will  not  wed : 
no,  Harry,  nor  can  she  be  forced  to  wed  him ;  she  says  so 
much  in  her  letter ;  and  I  know  her  well  enough,  to  feel 
assured  she  will  keep  her  word.  But  still  there  must  be 
no  unnecessary  delay ;  and  could  my  design  be  accom- 
plished without  the  means  I  am  about  to  use — could  it 
in  fact  be  accomplished  by  speed  merely — I  would  mount 
the  fastest  horse  in  the  country,  and  ride  as  if  for  life. 
Do  not  think,  Harry,  because  I  seem  indifferent,  that  I  am 
not  impatient  to  see  her ;  but  my  experience  in  life  has 
taught  me  the  value  of  prudence;  and  now  that  I  am 
about  to  do  battle  for  a  great  stake,  I  feel  the  need  of  hav- 
ing all  my  weapons  about  me  and  in  good  order.  Speaking 
of  weapons — do  not  let  us  forget,  when  we  retire,  to  put 
our  revolvers  in  proper  order — for  one  never  knows,  in  this 
country,  how  soon  he  may  want  to  use  them.  Yes,  Harry, 
I  have  a  plan — not  fully  matured,  it  is  true — but  when  it  is, 
I  will  make  it  known  to  you — by  which  I  hope  to  outwit  two 


THE  DISGUISE.  77 


cunning  knaves,  and  steal  the  greatest  prize  our  earth 
contains.  If  I  do  succeed,  and  you  ever  write  that  book 
you  were  speaking  of,  I  bespeak  a  prominent  place  in  it  for 
my  chef-d'oeuvre  of  stratagem.  By-the-by,  I  believe  you 
do  not  speak  French  ?" 

"No." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that.  But  then — stop  !  let  me  see  ! — 
yes,  that  will  do  as  well ;  you  can  be  a  Yankee." 

"I  do  not  understand  to  what  you  allude." 

"You  will  in  good  time,  never  fear;"  and  Harley  re- 
lapsed into  a  reverie,  and  did  not  speak  again  for  five 
minutes,  notwithstanding  I  asked  him  several  questions 
meantime.  His  first  words  were :  "  But  how  to  dispose 
of  Tom !  for  he  must  go  with  us." 

"  Oh,  Tom  will  take  care  of  himself ;  he  is  easily  satis- 
fied," I  replied. 

"  You  do  not  understand  me^  Harry.  I  mean  in  what 
capacity  he  is  to  travel  with  us ;  for  if  as  a  servant,  will 
people  not  think  it  singular  that — " 

"Not  at  all,"  I  interrupted;  "or  if  they  do,  what  of 
it?  We  may  be  peddlers ;  but  it  does  not  follow,  you  know, 
we  must  be  poor  ;  and  why  not  have  a  black  to  carry  our 
boxes  ?  Some  may  think  us  a  little  too  aristocratic  for 
our  profession — but  that  will  do  us  no  harm." 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  are  right — consider  it  settled  so  at 
all  events,"  replied  Harley.  "  And  now,  Harry,  let  us 
retire  to  our  room.  Or,  by-the-bye,  I  wish  you  would 
make  inquiry  concerning  that  carriage  ;  and  if  you  can 
find  out  which  course  it  went  from  here,  I  think  we  shall 
have  no  great  diflScuIty  in  tracing  it  home." 

It  was  perhaps  an  hour  later,  that  I  repaired  to  the 
apartment  assigned  us  for  the  night.  The  door  was  locked. 
I  rapped  several  times ;  but  receiving  no  answer,  I  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  Harley  had  stepped  out,  and  taken  tli« 

7 


78  VIOLA. 


key  with  him.  And  I  was  further  confirmed  in  this  belief, 
when,  on  inquiring  at  the  bar,  I  was  told  that  my  friend 
had  gone  up  stairs  about  an  hour  since,  and  that  some  one, 
no  doubt  himself,  had  come  down  and  gone  out  within  a 
few  minutes.  I  seated  myself  and  took  up  a  newspaper 
to  while  away  the  time  till  his  return.  I  was  just  in  the 
middle  of  a  vituperative  article  on  Mexico,  in  which  the 
"writer  boldly  prophesied  the  consequences  to  thai  dis- 
tracted country,  should  she  dare  go  to  war  with  the  gi-eat- 
est  Nation  in  the  world — that  is  to  say,  the  Yankee  Nation, 
— when,  chancing  to  turn  my  head  a  little,  I  became  a^are 
that  some  one  was  looking  over  my  shoulder ;  and  another 
glance  showed  me  that  the  new  comer  was  a  stranger. 
Indignant  at  such  vulgar  rudeness,  I  started  to  my  feet, 
and  confronted  him  with : 

"Well,  sir,  what  is  it?" 

He  seemed  astonished  and  alarmed,  and  instantly  stam- 
mered out : 

"Pardonnez  moi !  I  want  not'ing.  I  was  just  look  at 
de  papeer :  vairee  sorree  I  was  deesturb  monsieur." 

I  looked  him  full  in  the  eye,  as  he  spoke,  and  became 
satisfied,  from  its  contrite  expression,  he  had  erred  through 
ignorance  rather  than  design.  He  was  a  young  man,  ap- 
parently under  thirty ;  though  his  face,  lips,  and  chin  were 
so  covered  with  a  black,  matted  beard,  that  it  was  difficult 
to  fix  upon  his  age  with  any  degree  of' certainty.  His 
skin  was  as  dark  as  that  of  a  Spaniard ;  and  long,  black, 
matted  hair  fell  down  around  his  shoulders,  and  completely 
hid  his  neck.  His  eyes  were  light,  I  noticed,  and  had  an 
intelligent  expression  ;  and  his  dress,  I  did  not  fail  to  per- 
ceive, was  something  like  my  own.  He  seemed  so  penitent 
for  having  disturbed  me,  as  he  expressed  it,  that  I  felt  my 
anger  vanish  in  a  moment ;  but  still  I  thought  it  best  not 
to  appear  too  easily  pacified. 


THE    DISGUISE.  79 


"You  are  a  Frenchman,  I  perceive  ?"  I  said. 

"  Oui,  monsieur,  at  your  sarvais." 

"  The  French,"  I  rejoined,  "  are  considered  a  very  po- 
lite people  ;  how  is  it  that,  being  one  of  them,  you  could 
be  so  rude  as  to  look  over  a  gentleman's  shoulder  while  he 
was  reading  ?" 

"  Ten  million  pardone,  monsieur  !  I  was  forgeet.  I  was 
look  at  ze  papeer,  to  geet  ze  nam."  I  do  zo  not  ageen,  1 
do  assure.  I  not  would  mak'  my  contree  asham' — but  I 
av  not  mooch  breed  a  la  mode.     I  was  a  poor  pedleer." 

"Ah  !  so  you  are  a  peddler?"  returned  I,  suddenly  be- 
coming much  interested  in  my  brother  chip.  "  Sit  down  ! 
never  mind  what  is  past :  I  was  a  little  hasty." 

The  sudden  change  in  my  manner,  seemed  to  make  my 
new  acquaintance  rather  suspicious ;  for  he  eyed  me  cu» 
riously ;  and  though  he  so  far  complied  with  my  request 
as  to  seat  himself,  yet  he  managed  to  leave  quite  a  space 
between  us ;  and  I  observed  he  put  his  hands  in  his  pock- 
ets, as  if  he  feared  I  might,  by  some  hocus  pocus,  abstract 
his  money  without  his  knowledge.  In  order  to  reassure 
him,  I  informed  him  that  I  was  on  the  point  of  adopting 
his  vocation. 

"  You,  monsieur  ?"  he  exclaimed ;  "  you  was  become  one 
pedleer  ?  By  gar !  I  was  so  mooch  astonish  nevare.  I 
shall  shook  your  hand  off;"  and  faith  I  thought  he  would; 
for  he  squeezed  and  shook  it  for  something  less  than  five 
minutes  :  in  fact,  until  I  withdrew  it,  and  begged  him  to 
reseat  himself.  "I  was  so  mooch  happee,  I  forgeet,"  he 
said,  by  way  of  apology. 

"  What  do  you  sell  ?"  I  inquired. 

"Jewelry,  and  sooch  tings." 

"  Jeweh-y,  eh  ?  Why,  then,  we  are  both  in  the  same 
line.* 

"  You  sell  him,  eh  ?  ha  !     By  gar  !    I  was  like  to  shook 


80  YIOLA. 


your  hand  ageen,  for  say  zo.  But  no — I  do  him  not — I 
might  forgeet  ze  leetle  stop." 

*'  Which  way  are  you  travelling  ?"  I  inquired. 

*'  I  was  just  come  from  Galveston  :  I  was  for  to  try  ze 
contree  up  to  Brazos  riviere." 

"  Ever  been  this  route  ?" 

"  Nevare.  I  was  coome  from  Nouvelle  Orlean  on  ze 
boat,  one,  two  day  gone  by." 

"  Where  do  you  put  up  for  the  night  ?" 

"In  zis  hotel  with  monsieur." 

"  Hum  !  yes.     How  do  you  carry  your  jewelry  ?'* 

"  In  one  leetle  box,  with  strop — zo — under  de  arm.** 

*'  Where  is  your  box  ?" 

"  Up  stairs.     Will  monsieur  look  at  him  ?" 

"  With  pleasure,"  I  answered. 

"  Will  monsieur  geet  ze  light  ?  I  show  him  with  mooch 
delight." 

I  procured  the  light,  and  we  went  up  stairs.  To  my 
surprise,  the  Frenchman  stopped  at  my  door  ;  and  taking 
a  key  from  his  pocket,  applied  it  to  the  lock. 

"Not  here,"  I  said;  "you  have  made  a  mistake;  this 
is  my  room." 

The  Frenchman  looked  at  the  number,  and  replied,  with 
a  shrug : 

"  If  meestake,  monsieur  was  mak'  him  :  zis  be  my  lodg- 
ing, where  I  keep  ze  box  :  Ze  key  say  zo — see  !"  and  with 
the  last  word,  he  threw  open  the  door,  adding :  "  Will 
monsieur  step  in,  please  ?" 

I  went  in,  looked  all  around,  and  assured  myself  I  was 
not  mistaken.  It  was  my  apartment:  and  there,  before 
me,  proof  positive,  were  my  box  and  Harley's. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  rather  sternly,  "  are  you  satisfied  now^ 
I  told  you  it  was  my  room  before  you  entered  it ;  now  I 
trust  you  are  convinced." 


THE    DISGUISE.  81 


"  But  I  say  zis  be  my  lodging,"  replied  the  other  ;  "  and 
see  !  dare  was  my  varee  box  ;"  and  going  up  to  one,  he 
commenced  fumbling  at  the  key  hole. 

I  was  never  a  person  to  be  trifled  with ;  and  suddenly 
becoming  indignant — for  I  felt  my  new  acquaintance  was 
presuming  on  my  good  nature — I  seized  him  by  the  collar, 
dragged  him  back  from  the  box,  and  exclaimed : 

"  Sir  !  what  do  you  mean  by  persisting  in  this  foolery  ? 
Begone  !  leave  the  room  instantly,  or  I  will  throw  you 
down  stairs  !" 

"Why,  Harry,  you  needn't  work  yourself  into  such  a 
passion  about  nothing ;  I  suppose  I  have  a  right  here  as 
well  as  you;  and  that  box  is  mine!"  said  my  French  ac- 
quaintance, in  the  voice  of  Morton  Harley. 

I  never  was  so  thunderstruck  in  my  life  ;  I  was  perfectly 
dumb  with  amazement ;  and  for  nearly  a  minute  I  stood 
speechless,  gazing  upon  the  person  before  me,  but  almost 
doubting  still  it  could  be  Harley. 

"  Is  it  you,  Morton  ?"  I  inquired,  at  length. 

"Well,  Harry,  it's  nobody  else,"  he  answered,  in  a 
phrase  peculiar  to  the  West ;  "  and  if  you  longer  doubt, 
see  here ;"  and  he  forthwith  removed  his  wig,  whiskers,  and 
moustaches,  and  stood  before  me  Morton  Harley  indeed, 
but  with  his  skin  discolored  by  the  liquid  he  had  used  to 
change  his  complexion. 

"  What  shall  it  be  ?"  I  inquired;  "  I  see  I  am  in  for  it 
again." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  the  wine  this  time,  Harry.  I  forgive 
you  a  little  rough  usage,  and  some  harsh  words,  and  you 
must  forgive  me  the  joke.  In  fact,  Harry,  it  was  not 
intended  for  a  joke ;  but  the  most  serious  earnest ;  and  on 
its  success  depended  the  prosecution  of  my  design.  Do 
you  comprehend  me  ?" 


7* 


82  VIOLA. 


"  I  think  I  do.  But  tell  me ;  where  and  when  did  you 
procure  this  disguise  ?" 

'*  It  was  made  for  me  some  years  ago,  and  first  used 
while  at  college,  to  steal  a  march  on  the  Faculty.  It  has 
been  lying  in  my  trunk ;  but  I  never  showed  it  to  you,  for 
the  reason  that  I  wished  first  to  test  its  virtue,  and  have 
some  harmless  fun  at  your  expense.  Henceforth,  with 
Heaven's  aid,  I  dedicate  it  to  a  service  of  momentous 
importance !  I  shall  not  fail  to  deceive  them — eh ! 
Harry?" 

"  You  could  deceive  your  own  mother :  I  never  saw  an 
illusion  so  real." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  I  could  now  shout  for  joy.  Let  them  have 
a  care  !  let  them  have  a  care  !  But  the  carriage,  Harry — 
you  made  the  inquiry  ?" 

"Yes!" 

"Well?" 

"  At  first  I  could  get  no  trace  of  it — could  find  no  one 
who  had  seen  it ;  but  at  last  I  met  a  stable-boy,  leading  a 
horse,  who  assured  me  such  a  carriage  had  passed  him 
about  a  mile  from  here,  on  the  road  running  northward." 

"Bravo!  As  Bulwer  says,  Hhe  night  is  passing.* 
Ob,  that  I  knew  the  future !  Come,  Harry,  let  us  turn  in 
— for  we  must  be  up  betimes.     Remember  the  wager!" 

"  I  hope  to  take  some  pleasure  in  reminding  you  of  it 
to-morrow  eve,"  I  replied. 

That  night  I  had  confused  dreams  of  distressed  damsels 
and  French  peddlers. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 


INCIDENTS. 


The  morning  rose  bright  and  glorious;  and  the  sun, 
which  here  in  this  delightful  climate  shines  a  perpetual 
summer,  now  poured  a  golden  flood  over  awakened  nature, 
making  everything  look  joyous.  We  are  all,  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree,  the  children  of  nature;  and  our  hearts  are 
apt  to  feel  buoyant  when  she  smiles,  and  depressed  when 
she  frowns  or  looks  gloomy,  as  the  infant  prattler  takes  its 
cue  from  its  mother. 

Harley  and  I  were  up  betimes ;  and  after  breaking  our 
•  fast,  we  set  out  upon  our  journey,  our  hearts  swelling  with 
''a  secret,  inward  exultation,  which  is  at  times  felt  by  all, 
but  which  language  cannot  describe. 

We  had  resolved  not  to  begin  our  new  vocation  till  we 
were  two  miles  on  the  road ;  and  Tom  was  accordingly 
ordered  to  follow  us  at  a  respectable  distance  with  our 
boxes.  We  passed  several  fine-looking  houses,  and  at 
length  came  to  a  deep  wood ;  when,  retiring  into  a  thicket, 
Harley  donned  his  disguise,  which  he  was  determined  hence- 
forth to  wear,  lest  some  accident  might  betray  him  to  his 
enemies. 

We  now  for  the  first  time  slung  our  boxes  under  our 
arms ;  and  if  we  did  not  look  foolish,  I  certainly  for  one 
felt  so.  I  found  it  was  one  thing  to  turn  peddler  in  imagi- 
nation, and  another  to  be  so  in  reality.  Still  I  braced 
myself  up  with  the  reflection,  that  it  was  not  for  paltry 
gain  I  "had  taken  to  the  road,"  but  to  accomplish  a  great 

iSS) 


84  VIOLA. 


purpose ;  and  by  dint  of  much  reasoning  with  myself  to 
this  effect,  I  had  almost  "  screwed  my  courage  to  the  stick- 
ing point,"  when  I  chanced  to  espy  Tom,  with  his  back 
toward  me,  shaking  as  if  with  the  ague. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?"  cried  I. 

Tom  started,  turned  around,  and  tried  with  all  his  might 
to  look  grave  and  serious ;  but  the  desire  to  laugh  over- 
coming his  fear  of  punishment,  he,  after  displaying  sundry 
contortions  of  countenance,  burst  forth  in  one  regular 
negro  "yah!  yah!"  that  might  have  been  heard  half-a- 
mile. 

"You — you  can  lik  dis  chile,  Massa  Hal,"  he  said — 
"  bu-but  I  can't  help  it — dat  de  fac' — yah  !  yah  !  yah  !" 

"  Well,  what  in  the  name  of  common  sense  ar^  you 
laughing  at  ?" 

"  Why,  I  was  tinking  how  you  look,  ef  Massa  Wal'on, 
or  old  Moll  seed  you  now.  I  neber  tink  young  Massa 
Harry,  de  greatest  buck  in  ole  Wargin'a,  come  down  to 
dis." 

"  I  may  come  down  to  something  worse  for  you,  if  you 
are  not  careful,"  I  replied,  sternly.  "  Hark  ye,  boy  !  laugh 
your  laugh  out  now ;  and  mind  you  never  betray,  by  word, 
look,  or  sign,  that  Harley  or  I  are  other  than  we  seem,  or 
I  will  break  every  bone  in  your  body  !" 

"  Come,  Harry,"  said  my  friend,  "  never  mind  Tom ;  I 
know  he  will  be  true — or" — and  he  gave  the  black  a 
significant  look,  and  pointed  to  one  of  his  revolvers, 
which  had  an  instantaneous  effect  in  bringing  about  a 
silence.  "  Come,  Harry,  let  us  forward — for  I  long  to  be 
playing  my  part." 

"  Ay,  and  your  part  is  an  easy  one,  compared  to  mine, 
Morton." 

"How  so?" 

"  Because  you  will  act  behind  a  mask,  and  so  conceal 


INCIDENTS.  85 


both  your  own  face  and  your  blushes;  while  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  expose,  to  the  rude  gaze  of  all  I  meet,  an  open, 
honest,  modest  countenance,  which  I  fear  will  be  perpetu- 
ally blushing  for  what  its  owner  does." 

*'Well,  there  is  some  truth  in  that,"  laughed  Harley ; 
"  but  you  must  console  yourself  with  the  reflection,  that  no 
one  here  will  know  you,  and  that  you  will  never  see  your 
kind  patrons  but  once.  Come,  the  wager !  the  wager  ! 
Faith !  I  see  I  shall  win  without  an  eflfort." 

"Be  not  too  sanguine,"  said  I,  now  thinking  of  nothing 
but  victory ;  for,  from  a  child  up,  I  was  always  ambitious  to 
excel  in  whatever  I  undertook.  "  The  first  house  shall  be 
yours,  the  second  mine;  and  so  we  will  continue,  alter- 
nately, till  we  tire  of  the  sport." 

"And  fail  not,"  returned  Harley,  "to  make  inquiry  of 
all  you  see  concerning  the  carriage,  and  the  location  of 
D'Estang  Ville;  for  some  one  perchance  may  know  of  it; 
and  once  discovered,  away  with  all  thoughts  but  those  of 
love  and  happiness,  or  despair  and  revenge." 

It  was  a  rich,  beautiful  country  over  which  we  were 
now  passing ;  and  at  regular  intervals  were  the  dwellings 
of  wealthy  planters.  At  the  first  of  these — a  pleasant  look- 
ing mansion,  standing  ofif  to  the  right  of  the  road — Harley 
stopped ;  and  bidding  Tom  loiter  behind,  I  went  forward 
to  try  my  luck  and  test  my  assurance  at  the  next.  The 
distance  between  the  two  was  about  half  a  mile ;  and  so 
occupied  was  I  with  thinking  of  how  I  should  feel  and  act, 
and  what  I  should  say,  that  the  beauties  of  a  splendid  land- 
scape, reposing  in  the  soft  sunshine  of  a  lovely  day,  were 
unnoticed ;  and  the  silvery  warblings  of  hundreds  of  gay- 
plumed  songsters  were  unheard. 

At  length  I  found  myself  opposite  a  modest,  genteel 
residence  ;  but  when,  after  gazing  upon  it  a  few  minntes,  I 
desperately  turned  my  steps  into  the  neat  enclosure  in  front 
6 


86  VIOLA. 


thereof,  I  felt  just  as  I  always  fancied  a  man  must  feel 
when  caught  in  the  act  of  robbing  a  neighbor's  hen-roost. 
I  kept  on,  however — at  least  my  feet  did — though  my 
heart  seemed  all  the  while  going  backward — and  I  really 
debated  with  myself,  whether  there  would  not  be  a  separa- 
tion between  the  two  by  the  time  I  should  get  there.  A 
couple  of  negro  children  were  playing  near  the  house  ;  and 
advancing  to  them,  I  inquired,  in  a  tolerably  even  tone  of 
voice,  considering  the  state  of  my  nerves,  if  their  mistress 
was  at  home.  The  reply  was  in  the  affirmative  ;  and  sum- 
moning all  my  fortitude  for  the  awful  trial,  like  a  man 
who  is  going  to  be  hung,  I  found  myself  at  the  door — 
though  to  this  day  I  have  no  distinct  recollection  of  how 
I  got  there. 

I  knocked. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  sharp  voice  ;  and  the  next  moment, 
trembling  from  head-to  foot,  with  perspiration  standing  all 
over  me  in  drops,  I  found  myself  in  a  neat,  genteel  apart- 
ment, where  a  pale,  thin-lipped,  sharp-featured,  starchy- 
looking  lady  sat  tying  a  ribbon  around  a  sombrero. 

I  remember  this  distinctly ;  and  how  I  wondered,  at  the 
time,  if  that  would  ever  shade  such  a  sneaking,  hangdog- 
looking  countenance,  as  I  fancied  a.ndfelt  mine  at  that  mo 
ment  must  be. 

"  Well  ?"  said  the  woman,  sharply,  eyeing  me  suspi- 
ciously from  head  to  foot. 

«  Madam,  I—" 

"We  don't  v/ant  to  buy  anything,  sir." 

"  You  mistake  me,"  I  stammered,  feeling  the  hot  blood 
of  shame  and  confusion  rush  to  my  face,  till  I  thought  the 
heated  veins  would  burst.  I — I — called,  madam — foi? — a 
drink  of  water." 

"  Oh  !  ah  !  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir ! — pray  be  seated. 
Dinah,  (to  a  negress  in  an  adjoining  room,)  a  glass  of  water 


INCIDENTS.  87 


bere  for  this  gentleman.  You  must  excuse  me !  I  thought, 
from  seeing  your  box,  you  were  a  peddler ;  and  I  detest  the 
lazy  drones,  who  go  strolling  about  to  cheat  honest,  indus- 
trious citizens." 

"Yes,  madam,  so  do  I,"  I  replied.  "  Of  all  professions 
on  earth,  I  think  that  of  peddling  the  most  detestable ;" 
and  I  spoke  from  my  heart.  Here  Dinah  brought  the 
water ;  and  having  drank,  I  rose  to  go.  "  Could  you  direct 
me  to  D'Estang  Ville  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  D'Estang  Ville  !"  repeated  the  other,  musingly.  "I 
think  I  have  heard  the  name  before.  It  is  not  in  this  vici- 
nity, I  think." 

"  I  believe  not,  madam ;  at  least  I  have  heard  it  is  near 
the  river  Brazos." 

"  Well,  no,  I  could  not  direct  you  to  it ;  but  if  you  take 
the  road  to  your  left,  a  mile  or  two  beyond  here,  you  will 
be  right  for  the  Brazos." 

*'*  Thank  you,  madam  ;  I  wish  you  good- day ;"  and  I  de- 
camped, feeling  something  like  an  escaped  convict. 

Having  got  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  I  sat  down  by  the 
road  side,  to  wait  for  Harley.  In  about  ten  minutes  he 
made  his  appearance. 

"Well,  Harry,"  he  said,  "what  success?  Ah!  I  read 
failure  in  your  countenance." 

I  gave  him  the  particulars  of  my  first  attempt ;  and  after 
a  hearty  laugh,  he  rejoined,  gravely : 

"I  was  afraid  of  this,  Harry.  You  must  try  again, 
and — " 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  I  interrupted ;  "  I  am  satisfied  I 
was  never  intended  for  a  peddler.  Fortunately,  I  am  not 
obliged  to  adopt  the  profession ;  and  as  to  the  wager,  why, 
I  will  consider  myself  the  loser." 

"  Nay,  Harry,  this  will  not  answer  my  purpose.  You 
must  try  your  hand  at  this  business,  till  you  can  pass  for  a 


88  VIOLA. 


salesman — otherwise  you  will  be  ignorant  of  what  you  pro- 
fess ;  and  this  may  accidentally  be  discovered,  at  a  time 
when  discovery  will  be  fatal  to  my  project." 

"I  shall  never  succeed,  I  assure  you,  if  all  my  custo- 
mers are  like  yonder  shrew." 

"You  will  hardly  find  two  alike,  Harry;  though  from 
what  I  understand  of  this  shrew,  as  you  term  her,  I  doubt 
not  she  is  the  one  to  trade  liberally,  if  you  only  touch  her 
right.  Mankind  is  a  great  organ,  on  which,  in  order  to 
play  any  tune,  you  have  only  to  be  master  of  the  keys  and 
stops.  Come,  I  will  go  back  and  trade  with  this  woman, 
just  to  convince  you  of  the  truth  of  what  I  say." 

"  Better  not  try  her,  Harley ;  she  will  set  her  dogs  on 
you." 

"No  fear  of  that — shrews  do  their  own  dogging,"  said 
Harley,  laughing.  "  Stay  you  here  till  I  return.  I  will 
not  be  long  away." 

"No  longer  than  to  go  and  come,"  rejoined  I. 

But  my  friend  did  not  return  so  soon  as  I  expected  :  in 
fact,  it  was  a  full  half-hour  ere  I  saw  him  again. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  were  you  turned  out  of  the  house  ?" 

"No,"  he  answered,  "  I  was  politely  bowed  out,  with  four 
dollars  and  sixty-two  cents  more  in  my  pocket  than  when  I 
entered.  Ah !  my  dear  fellow,  nothing  like  touching  them 
right." 

"  And  did  the  old  woman  really  want  to  trade,  after 
all  ?" 

"  Why,  she  said  not ;  but  I  knew  better ;  and  I  stayed 
till  I  sold  her  the  amount  named." 

"  Well,  I  have  only  to  say,  then,  that  if  you  can  make 
all  the  world  believe  the  moon  is  made  of  green  cheese,  I 
can  make  somebody.     I  will  try  again." 

I  did  try,  and  succeeded  beyond  my  expectations ;  and 


INCIDENTS.  89 


each  new  trial  gave  me  fresh  assurance ;  till  at  last  Harley 
said  he  thought  me  properly  trained  for  his  purpose. 

It  was  now  considerably  past  noon  ;  and  as  neither  of  U3 
had  eaten  since  morning,  we  resolved  to  push  forward  to  a 
small  village,  some  two  miles  distant,  and  there  put  up  for 
the  night. 

On  our  way  thither,  we  came  to  a  fine-looking  d^\el]ing, 
from  which  issued  the  sweetest,  most  melodious  music  1 
had  ever  heard.  It  appeared  to  be  a  female  voice,  accom 
panied  by  a  guitar. 

"Beautiful!"  whispered  Harley,  as  breathlessly  wa 
listened  to  the  rich,  clear,  full  notes.     "■  Divine  !" 

I  cannot  tell  why  ;  but  an  irresistible  desire  possessed 
me  to  see  the  singer ;  and  grasping  my  box,  as  the  last  soft 
tones  seemed  to  melt  away  into  "thin  air,"  I  resolutely 
said  to  myself — 

"  I  will,  and  here  is  my  letter  of  introduction." 

"Where  are  you  going,  Harry?"  inquired  my  compa- 
nion, as  I  turned  my  steps  toward  the  mansion,  which  stood 
half-embowered  in  a  beautiful  enclosure,  that  might  not  in- 
appropriately be  likened  to  ancient  Eden. 

"Going  to  make  love,"  I  replied. 

"  Better  do  it  on  a  full  stomach,"  he  rejoined,  with  some- 
thing more  in  the  way  of  remonstrance,  to  which  I  paid  no 
attention. 

I  entered  the  enclosure,  and  passing  through  an  orange 
grove,  along  a  walk  fragrant  with  the  rarest  and  most  de- 
lightful flowers  of  a  southern  clime,  approached  the  man- 
sion. One  idea  now  filled  my  soul.  Should  I  see  the  un- 
known songstress  ?  and  should  I  find  her  person  as  beauti- 
ful as  I  knew  her  voice  to  be  melodious  ?  Tell  me  not  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  animal  magnetism — a  something  which 
draws  together  souls,  and  unites  them,  like  loadstone  and 
steel.     I  know  better — I  know  it  from  experience.     Else 

8 


90  *  VIOLA. 


"why  went  I  to  seek  out  the  fair  warbler,  without  reflecting 
on  the  consequences  ?  Had  I  been  guided  by  reason,  or 
by  judgment,  I  should  not  have  gone ;  but  I  acted  from 
an  impulse  stronger  than  reason  or  judgment;  and  if  this 
impulse  was  not  in  itself  magnetism,  I  know  not  what  it 
was,  and  willingly  leave  the  subject,  with  the  fact,  for  the 
further  investigation  of  the  curious. 

I  reached  the  vine-covered  portico  of  the  mansion,  in  a 
very  peculiar  frame  of  mind,  and  rang  the  bell.  A  negro 
woman  answered  my  summons,  and  invited  me  to  enter.  I 
did  so ;  and  was  shown  into  a  very  elegant  parlor,  where  I 
seated  myself  on  a  rich  sofa,  with  the  air  of  a  lord. 

"  Is  your  mistress  at  home  ?"  I  now  inquired. 

"No,  massa — she  gwine  down  to  Ga'veston. 

*'  Ah  !  then  it  was  not  her  I  heard  sing  ?" 

"  Oh,  bless  ye,  no,  massa — missus  neber  sing — dat  was 
young  Missee  Clara,  I  guess  you  hearn." 

"  And  pray  who  is  Miss  Clara  ?" 

"At  your  service,"  said  a  rich,  silvery  voice ;  and  a 
beautiful  young  lady,  robed  in  white,  glided  gracefully  into 
the  room,  and  advanced  toward  me. 

I  rose,  bowed,  and  then  recollecting  I  could  ofier  no  ex- 
cuse for  being  there  but  ray  jewelry,  I  suddenly  grew  con- 
fused and  abashed,  and  would  have  given  half  I  was  worth 
to  have  been  anywhere  else  just  at  that  moment.  But  my 
confusion  ended  in  rapturous  astonishment,  when  the  lovely 
being  before  me  suddenly  bounded  forward,  threw  her  arms 
around  my  neck,  and  embraced  me  in  the  most  aff'ectionate 
manner.  I  returned  her  embrace — for  the  temptation  was 
too  strong  to  resist ;  but  for  the  life  of  me,  I  could  not  tell 
whether  I  was  being  hugged  for  myself,  or  for  somebody 
else :  at  all  events,  I  thought  there  would  be  no  harm  in 
improving  the  time — and,  as  I  have  said,  I  did  so. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

IN  LOVE. 

The  first  words  of  my  fair  hostess  increased  my  per- 
plexity and  amazement. 

"  So,  truant,  I  have  you  at  last !"  she  exclaimed,  with 
animation,  stepping  back  a  pace,  resting  a  hand  on  each 
shoulder,  and  letting  her  soft,  bright  eyes  look  full  into 
mine.     I  was  bewildered. 

"  Good  heavens  !"  cried  I, — "  do  you  know  me  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  do  :  did  you  think  two  years  would  efface 
your  image  from  my  remembrance  ?  Ah !  I  would  have 
known  you  had  we  met  accidentally  in  a  strange  city  ;  how 
much  more  then  here,  when  I  knew  you  were  coming. 
You  look  well,"  she  continued,  while  I  stood  dumb  with 
astonishment ;  "  better  than  I  ever  saw  you  before  ;  travel 
has  improved  you;  you  are  right  handsome." 

Here  she  turned  her  head  aside,  and  I  could  perceive  a 
nervous  twitching  of  the  muscles  around  her  mouth,  as  if 
she.  were  trying  to  repress  the  exhibition  of  some  deep 
emotion.  But  in  vain  her  effort ;  and  the  next  moment 
she  lay  heavily  against  my  breast,  and  her  tears  flowed 
freely. 

"Chide  me  not!"  she  murmured;  "chide  me  not!  I 
promised  not  to  weep ;  but  I  cannot  help  it ;  I  am  so  glad 
to  see  you." 

"This  must  be  some  mistake,"  I  now  ventured  to  say, 
hardly  knowing  whether  to  regard  what  I  saw  and  felt  aa 

(91) 


92  VIOLA. 


real,  or  as  some  vision  of  the  brain — a  dream  from  which 
all  too  soon  I  must  wake. 

"How  a  mistake?"  she  inquired,  looking  up. 

*'  Why,  who  do  you  take  me  for,  fair  lady  ?" 

"  Come,  come — no  more  of  your  jokes — at  least  not  now. 
You  cannot  play  upon  me.  I  tell  you  I  know  you.  I  re- 
cognized your  voice,  when  you  so  innocently  inquired  who 
is  Miss  Clara  ;  but  I  thought  I  Avould  be  sure,  ere  I  made 
any  demonstrations  of  joy.  But  where  is  aunt  ?  and  how 
is  it  you  come  alone  ?  Ah  !  some  mischievous  plot  of 
yours,  I'll  be  bound." 

"Miss  Clara,"  replied  I — "since  such  I  understand  is 
your  name — this  appears  to  be  a  very  singular  mistake, 
which,  on  your  account,  I  regret  exceedingly.  You  are  ex- 
pecting some  one,  between  whom  and  myself  there  must 
be  a  very  extraordinary  resemblance  ;  but  I  do  assure  you, 
most  sincerely,  I  am  not  the  person  you  take  me  for ;  and 
that  never,  till  within  this  hour,  had  I  the  pleasure  of  look- 
ing upon  your  countenance." 

"  Ah,  brother,"  she  said,  pouting  her  rosy  lips,  "  why 
will  you  persist  in  teasing  me  in  this  way  ?  Come  !  I  shall 
get  angry,  if  you  do  not  instantly  acknowledge  that  you 
are  Walter  Moreland,  my  own  dear  brother,  and  then  give 
me  such  a  kiss  as  a  sister  ought  to  have." 

"Moreland!"  repeated  I:  "Moreland!  surely  that 
name  is  familiar  to  me — where  have  I  heard  it  before  ? 
Ha  !  yes — it  must  be  the  same  !"  exclaimed  I ;  and  hastily 
producing  my  pocket-book,  I  took  from  it  a  memorandum 
of  facts  gathered  from  the  letters  of  the  young  man  who 
perished  the  victim  of  a  gambler  on  the  Neptune.  "TAo- 
mas  Moreland  J  of  Oentreville,  Texas, — Son  of  a  Widow 
Moreland,''  I  read.  "  May  I  ask.  Miss  Clara,  if  you 
know  the  individuals  mentioned?  and  if  they  are  con- 
nected with  your  family  ?" 


IN   LOVE.  93 


" Brother,  "why  will  you  tease  me  so?"  cried  my  fair 
companion,  with  a  vexed  expression*  "  You  know  Thomaa 
is  our  cousin." 

"  Miss  Moreland,"  said  I,  gravely,  "saking  her  hand,  "  1 
see  you  still  persist  in  calling  me  brother  ;  but  you  must 
be  undeceived,  as  you  soon  will  be.  I  solemnly  give  you 
ray  word  of  honor,  as  a  gentleman,  that  I  am  not  your 
brother — that  my  name  is  not  Walter  Moreland — and  that, 
till  yesterday,  I  never  set  foot  on  the  soil  of  Texas." 

Miss  Moreland  looked  at  me  incredulously,  for  a  moment 
or  two,  and  then,  starting  back,  alarmed,  exclaimed : 

"If  not  Walter  Moreland,  my  brother,  then  who  on 
earth  are  you  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Henry  Walton,  and  I  am  from  Virginia." 

"  Oh !  what  have  I  said  and  done  ?"  she  cried,  hiding 
her  blushing  face.  "  Stay  !  one  test !"  and  suddenly 
springing  to  me,  she  lifted  the  hair  from  my  right  temple. 
"Ah  !  no,"  she  said  ;  "  I  am  wrong  ;  the  scar  is  not  here. 
Oh !  sir,  ten  thousand  pardons  !  I  am  overwhelmed  with 
confusion.  Hetty,  (to  the  servant,  who  had  all  this  time 
been  a  silent  spectator,)  did  you  not  think  this  gentleman 
my  brother  ?" 

"  Didn't  know,  Missee  Clara  ;  rader  tink  so  when  I  seed 
you  kiss  him." 

"  Go  and  attend  to  your  duties,  Hetty !"  said  Miss 
Moreland,  sternly,  fresh  color  mounting  to  her  temples, 
till  her  face  glowed  like  a  coal  of  fire.  Then,  turning  to 
me  again  :  "  Ah,  sir,  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  mak- 
ing such  a  ridiculous  mistake." 

I  felt  I  could  forgive  her  a  hundred  such ;  and  so  no 
doubt  would  you,  reader,  of  the  sterner  sex,  had  you  been 
in  my  place.  Had  she  been  old  and  ugly,  the  case  might 
have  been  different ;  but  it  seems  a  very  easy  matter  to 

8* 


94  VIOLA. 


forgive  a  young  and  beautiful  woman,  when  her  only  crime 
is  that  of  being  a  little  too  affectionate. 

And  here  let  me  pause  to  say  that  Clara  Moreland  was 
both  young  and  beautiful.  Her  age  was  about  eighteen, 
and  her  form  well  developed  and  symmetrical.  Every  mo- 
tion combined  grace  and  dignity,  with  a  sort  of  winning, 
affectionate  ease,  if  I  may  be  permitted  such  a  term,  which 
made  her  very  charming.  Her  complexion  was  light,  and 
her  skin  soft  and  clear.  She  had  sunny  hair,  and  mild, 
liquid  blue  eyes,  which  beamed  upon  you,  through  their 
long  lashes,  a  soul  of  intellect  and  tenderness.  Her  face 
was  full,  almost  round,  with  a  kind  of  radiant  expression, 
which  even  in  repose  gave  her  an  animated  appearance. 
Her  lips  were  full,  and  slightly  pouting,  and  just  suffi- 
ciently open  to  display  a  row  of  pearly  teeth.  A  warm 
tint,  of  rosy  health,  rested  on  her  cheeks ;  and  her  color 
came  and  went  in  keeping  with  her  feelings — presenting, 
not  unfrequently  in  the  same  moment,  the  varying  shades 
of  an  Aurora  Borealis.  Nothing  could  exceed  in  beauty 
the  plumpness  of  her  arms — which  were  now  bare  to  the 
elbow — and  the  lady-like  taper  of  her  hand  and  fingers. 
Her  smile  was  the  most  bewitching  I  had  ever  seen,  and 
her  laugh  the  most  musical  I  had  ever  heard.  In  short, 
she  surpassed  the  ideal  picture  I  had  formed  from  hearing 
her  sing ;  and  as  I  intend  to  be  candid  with  you,  reader, 
I  must  frankly  confess,  that  from  the  first  I  felt  myself 
most  desperately  in  love  with  her. 

In  reply  to  what  she  had  said  in  the  way  of  apology,  I 
stammered  out  something  about  being  too  happy  in  know- 
ing that  I  resembled  one  so  dear  to  her  ;  and  was  going 
on  in  this  strain — which  would  have  brought  me  up,  I  know 
Qot  where — when  it  suddenly  occurred  to  me,  that  I  was 
taking  unwarrantable  liberties  with  a  mistake ;  and  I  in 


IN   LOVE.  95 


turn  became  confused  and  embarrassed,  and  finally  ended 
with  : 

*'  I  crave  pardon,  Miss  Moreland  !  I  know  not  what  I 
am  saving." 

A  dead  silence  ensued,  and  we  both  stood  blushing  and 
abashed.  I  would  have  given  no  small  sura,  to  have  ex- 
tricated myself  in  a  polite  and  dignified  manner;  but  if 
my  life  had  depended  on  it,  I  would  not  have  ventured 
another  sentence,  for  fear  of  making  a  fool  of  myself.  Oh, 
the  humiliating  agony  of  that  moment !  I  shall  never  for- 
get it.  I  have  been  in  some  very  perilous  and  trying  situ- 
ations since  ;  I  have  seen  death  staring  me  in  the  face  in 
various  forms  ;  but  candidly,  I  confess,  I  do  not  know  that 
I  ever  felt  rnore^  in  the  same  space  of  time,  in  my  life. 
You  may  laugh,  reader — you  that  have  never  been  simi- 
larly tried ;  but  I  appeal  to  all  of  experience  in  such  mat- 
ters, to  say  if  they  doubt  the  truth  of  my  assertion.  Talk 
about  bayonets  and  batteries  I  I  have  since  faced  both, 
like  a  man,  when  the  battle  was  raging,  and  death  was 
doing  its  work  on  every  side ;  but  it  was  nothing  to  stand- 
ing before  the  battery  of  the  lovely  Clara  Moreland's  eyes. 
I  could  think,  reason,  speak  and  act  on  the  battle-field ; 
here  I  could  do  neither ;  all  my  intellectual  faculties 
seemed  jumbled  into  chaos  ;  and  poor  I  standing  there,  a 
kind  of  *'  wreck  of  matter." 

Woman,  by  a  peculiar  gift,  is  generally  the  first,  at  such 
times,  to  recover  herself;  and  it  was  so  in  the  present 
instance :  for  Clara,  accidentally  resting  her  eyes  on  my 
box,  said,  timidly : 

"  I  believe  you  called  to — " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  interrupted,  speaking  the  first  clear  idea 
that  entered  my  head,  and  which  I  gathered  from  following 
her   eyes  to  the  box :    "  Yes,  I  called  to  sell   you  some 


96  VIOLA. 


jewelry  ;  have  some  very  fine,  I  assure  you  ;"  and  I  made 
a  motion  toward  the  box,  when  her  language  arrested  me. 

*'  Jewelry  ?"  she  repeated,  with  a  look  of  surprise. 
"  Oh,  then  you  are  a  peddler  ?"  and  I  fancied  she  drew  her- 
self up  a  little  proudly.  "I  was  about  to  observe,  I  thought 
you  called  to  learn  something  concerning  my  cousin, 
Thomas  Moreland,  as  you  mentioned  the  name." 

Reader,  did  you  ever,  in  a  dream,  fancy  yourself  in  a 
glorious  region  of  beatitude  ?  and  then,  by  a  blunder  of 
the  foot,  feel  yourself  pitched  headlong  down,  far  down, 
into  a  quagmire  ?  If  you  ever  did,  you  no  doubt  felt  some- 
what "fallen  from  your  high  estate  ;"  but  even  then,  your 
feelings  were  bliss  compared  to  mine,  when  I  fully  compre- 
hended what  a  mercenary  blockhead  I  had  made  of  myself. 
If  what  I  had  previously  experienced  may  be  termed  the 
torture  of  bashfulness — what  I  now  underwent  must  be 
denominated  the  quaintessence  of  meanness. 

What !  seek  to  sell  jewelry  to  the  divinity  before  me  ? 
I,  of  the  best  blood  of  old  Virginia — a  descendant  of  the 
Cavaliers — the  son  of  a  wealthy  planter — a  gentleman  of 
independent  fortune  ?  I,  Harry  Walton,  to  seek  to  dispose 
of  my  gew-gaws,  for  a  profit,  to  the  only  being  I  had  ever 
seen  that  I  loved  ?  Oh,  I  could  have  cut  my  tongue  out 
for  uttering  the  words ;  I  would  have  torn  myself  with  red- 
hot  pincers,  to  have  had  them  unsaid ;  and  as  for  the  box 
of  vile  trinkets,  if  my  wishes'on  that  had  been  granted,  it 
would  long  since  have  been  in  a  place  where  I  hope  I  shall 
never  be.  It  has  been  said  of  the  lamented  Davy  Crocket, 
that  when  he  wanted  to  crawl  through  a  hole  one-half  the 
size  of  his  body,  he  thought  of  the  meanest  thing  he  ever 
did,  and  went  through  easily ;  and  on  the  same  principle, 
I  believe,  just  then,  I  could  have  crawled  through  a  gimlet 
hole.  "  Well,"  thought  I,  with  an  old  motto,  "  'desperate 
diseases  require  desperate  remedies ;'  and  something  must 


IN    LOVE.  97 


be  done  now,  Harry,  to  regain  your  footing,  or  you  will 
never  be  able  to  hold  your  head  up  again."  For  the 
time  it  would  take  one  to  count  ten,  I  thought  intensely, 
lesperately,  agonizingly;  and  then  I  had  settled  on  my 
■-jourse. 

"Miss  Moreland,"  I  began,  with  a  courtly  ease  that, 
three  minutes  before,  I  would  almost  have  sacrificed  my 
right  hand  to  possess :  "  Miss  Moreland,  in  judging  by 
appearances,  we  often  judge  wrongly.  I  am  not  what  I 
seem.  I  am  not  a  peddler.  True,  this  is  a  box  of  jewelry; 
and  on  the  road  hither  I  have  stopped  at  several  dwellings^ 
and  effected  several  sales.  But  in  doing  so  I  had  a  pur- 
pose, which  at  present  I  cannot  explain  to  you.  And  now, 
pardon  me  for  speaking  candidly,  and  saying  why  I  am 
here.  I  was  passing  this  house  with  a  friend,  when  we 
were  both  arrested  by  hearing  sounds  of  melody  that  1 
fancied  could  proceed  from  no  ordinary  being.  To  behold 
that  being  I  felt  an  irresistible  desire  ;  and  without  think- 
ing further,  than  that  I  could  make  my  adopted  vocation 
an  excuse  for  my  intrusion,  I  made  bold  to  enter  here,  and 
you  know  what  has  followed." 

My  fair  companion  again  blushed,  and  seemed  more  em- 
barrassed than  ever  ;  but  finally  stammered  out : 

"  This — this  is  quite  singular — very  strange  !" 

"  It  is  strange,  Miss  Moreland ;  for  everything  appears 
strange  to  us,  that  we  cannot  give  a  reason  for ;  but  what 
seems  most  singular  of  all,  is,  that  in  me  you  should 
behold  such  a  likeness  to  your  brother,  and  that  in  you  I 
should  find  so  near  a  relative  of  one  who,  a  stranger  to. 
me.  I  chanced  to  see  die,  and  consigned  to  a  stranger's 
grave,  in  a  strange  land.  It  seems  more  than  accident, 
Miss  Moreland ;  and  I  am  fain  to  believe  that  Providence 
has  brought  us  together." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  sir,"  she  said,  turning  pale. 


98  VIOLA. 


"  Thomas  Moreland,  your  cousin,  is  no  more." 

"  Dead  ?"  she  almost  shrieked. 

"  Alas  !  that  I  must  say  yes." 

*'  IIow  ?  where  ?  when  ?  Oh  !  this  is  terrible  news  ! 
You  are  not  deceiving  me,  sir?" 

''  He  that  could  trifle  with  your  feelings  on  such  a  sub- 
ject. Miss  Moreland,"  I  replied,  gravely,  "  is  a  vile  wretch 
— and  I  trust  you  do  not  think  me  such." 

"  Oh,  no,  sir — no — forgive  me  !  I  knew  not  what  I 
said — this  news  came  so  sudden.  Oh,  tell  me  how  it 
happened  !" 

'^  Calm  yourself.  Miss  Moreland,"  I  said  ;  and  I  pro- 
ceeded to  give  her  all  the  particulars  I  knew  concerning  the 
gambler's  victim — how  he  died  and  where  he  was  buried — 
the  which,  being  known  to  the  reader,  I  need  not  here 
repeat. 

She  burst  into  tears,  and  wept  like  a  child. 

"  Poor  Thomas  !"  she  exclaimed;  "  what  a  terrible  fate  ! 
Alas  !  alas  !  his  poor  mother  !  this  blow,  I  fear,  will  kill 
her — for  he  was  all  her  hope  ;"  and  she  wept  anew. 

I  did  not  offer  anything  in  the  way  of  consolation — for 
well  I  knew  there  is  no  solace  for  grief  equal  to  tears.  At 
last,  becoming  somewhat  tranquilized,  she  proceeded  to 
answer  my  inquiry  concerning  the  unfortunate  young  man, 
by  giving  me  a  brief  history  of  his  family,  which  was  in 
substance  as  follows  : 

Frederick  Moreland,  the  father  of  Thomas,  had  removed 
to  Texas,  from  Kentucky,  during  the  early  struggles  of 
the  late  Republic  for  independence.  He  had  a  wife  and 
four  children,  the  youngest  of  whom,  Thomas,  was  then  an 
infant.  He  had  purchased  a  tract  of  land  near  the 
Brazos,  and  been  settled  upon  it  only  about  six  months, 
when  a  gang  of  Mexicans  came  to  his  house  one  night, 
killed  him  ind  three  cliildren,  plundered  the  dwollinir.  nnd 


IN    LOVE.  99 


set  it  on  fire.  Just  previous  to  the  attack,  Mrs.  Moreland, 
with  her  youngest  born  in  her  arms,  had  stepped  out ;  and 
hearinc'  the  murderous  assault,  she  concealed  herself  in  a 
thicket,  and  so  escaped  the  massacre.  This  terrible  blow 
had  nearly  proved  fatal  to  her  ;  but  she  had  survived  it,  to 
concentrate  all  her  thoughts,  affections,  hopes,  and  fears, 
upon  the  only  remaining  child.  He  grew  up  a  wayward 
youth,  was  over-indulged,  and  had  squandered  her  fortune 
in  drinking  and  gambling.  For  the  last  two  years,  how- 
ever, he  had  been  a  reformed  man  ;  but,  alas  !  his  early 
dissipation  had  planted  the  seeds  of  a  disease  that  bade'fair  to 
make  him  its  victim.  His  mother,  with  whom  he  lived, 
could  not  bear  the  thought  that  he  should  die  so  young, 
and  advised  him  to  travel ;  and,  to  give  him  the  means, 
was  about  to  sell  the  little  all  she  possessed,  when  it  was 
accidentally  discovered,  that  Frederick  Moreland,  the 
husband  and  father,  had  a  claim  on  the  United  States 
Government  for  services  rendered,  as  surveyor  on  the  Red 
River,  previous  to  his  removal  to  Texas.  This  claim, 
with  interest,  amounted  to  between  one  and  two  thousand 
dollars  ;  and  Thomas,  to  see  the  country  and  improve  his 
health,  had  gone  to  Washington,  to  petition  Congress  to 
settle  it.  Since  then,  Clara  had  heard  nothing  of  him, 
till  I  informed  her  of  his  death.  We  were  now  led  to 
believe,  from  what  I  had  heard  him  utter,  that  he  had 
succeeded  in  getting  the  money,  and  was  on  his  return, 
when  the  desire  of  gaming  getting  the  better  of  his  reso- 
lution, he  had  yielded  to  the  temptation,  and  so  shortened 
his  days.  What  an  awful  destiny  was  his  !  and  oh !  how 
terribly  must  the  intelligence  of  his  doom  fall  upon  the  ear 
of  his  poor  mother  !     I  shuddered  at  the  thought. 

My  narration  of  the  death  and  burial  of  Miss  More- 
land's  cousin — her  brief  story  of  his  history,  and  the 
causes  that  led  to  his  untimely  end — together  with  the 


100  VIOLA. 


uniting  of  our  sympathies  on  the  same  objects,  living  and 
dead — established  at  once  a  feeling  of  intimacy  between 
her  and  myself,  that  months  might  not  have  effected,  had 
we  met  under  other  circumstances  ;  and  as  for  myself,  I 
coul  1  hardly  realize  that  we  had  known  each  other  less 
than  two  hours — or  rather,  perhaps,  correctly  speakinrr, 
that  we  hardly  knew  each  other  yet. 

In  further  conversation  she  spoke  freely  of  her  own 
history — said  she  resided  in  Houston — that  her  father  was 
one  of  the  early  pioneers  of  the  country — was  a  personal 
friend  of  General  Houston — had  fought  under  him  for  the 
independence  of  Texas — had  risen  to  the  rank  of  Colonel 
— was  a  member  of  the  Texan  Congress,  and  had  been  a 
strenuous  advocate  for  annexation.  She  had  one  brother 
older,  and  one  sister  younger  than  herself,  and  a  mother — 
all  now  living.  Her  brother — who  bore  a  remarkable  re- 
semblance to  myself,  and  who,  as  nigh  as  I  could  judge, 
was  quite  an  original  in  his  w^ay — had  been  absent  two 
years  in  Europe,  and  was  now  on  his  return.  A  letter  had 
been  received  from  him,  dated  at  New  Orleans,  in  which 
he  stated  he  expected  to  reach  Galveston  by  a  certain 
steamer,  which  was  now  due.  She,  Clara,  had  come  down 
to  stay  a  day  or  two  with  her  aunt — her  mother's  sister — 
who,  with  her  children,  three  in  number,  had  gone  to  meet 
her  brother  at  the  boat.  As  there  was  not  convenient  room 
in  the  carriage  for  more,  she  had  preferred  awaiting  his 
arrival  here. 

Thus  conversing,  happy  beyond  wish  of  change,  I  "took 
no  note  of  time,"  till  I  chanced  to  hear  a  clock  strike  the 
fifth  hour  from  noon.  This  suddenly  brought  to  recollec- 
tion where  I  was,  and  in  what  manner  1  had  left  my  friend. 
I  sprang  to  my  feet. 

"You  are  not  going ?"  said  Miss  Moreland,  in  a  tone  of 
bewitching  sweetness. 


IN    LOVE.  .  .>.,         .101 


"  I  must — I  must ! — heavens !  how  the  time  has  flown  ! 
I  cannot  realize  we  have  been  three  hours  together." 

"  To  me  it  seems  as  if  we  had  been  much,  very  much, 
longer  acquainted,"  replied  my  fair  companion,  with  the 
utmost  naivete.  "  But  perhaps,"  she  added,  quickly, 
blushing  at  the  thought  of  the  construction  I  might  put 
upon  her  words — "  perhaps  it  is  because  of  your  striking 
likeness  to  my  brother.  But  surely,  Mr.  Walton,  you  can 
dtop  to  tea?  My  aunt  would  be  delighted  to  see  you;  and 
my  brother  also,  if  he  comes." 

*'  And  no  one  could  be  more  delighted  at  my  accepting 
your  kind  invitation,  than  your  humble  servant,  Miss 
Moreland,"  I  replied;  "and  accept  it  I  would,  I  assure 
you,  had  I  only  myself  to  consult.  But  there  are  others 
in  the  case.  I  have  a  friend  awaiting  me,  and  must  there- 
fore decline.  But,  Miss  Moreland — "  here  I  ventured  to 
take  her  hand,  which  trembled,  as  did  my  voice,  while  her 
respiration  changed,  the  color  deepened  on  her  beautiful 
features,  and  her  soft  bewitching  eyes  sought  the  ground, 
and  their  long  lashes  drooped  over  them :  "  Miss  More- 
land — "  here  I  really  began  to  grow  embarrassed,  with 
excess  of  emotion,  and  my  brain  to  grow  clouded :  "  Miss 
Moreland — I — that  is — will  you — may  I  hope — this  is  not 
— our  last — meeting — and  that  I — " 

"  Dar's  a  nigger  out  here,  says  as  how  his  name's  Tom, 
and  wants  to  know  ef  his  Massa  Walloon's  in  dis  house !" 
cried  Hetty,  at  this  moment  bursting  into  the  room. 

Reader,  you  must  fancy  what  followed — or  if  you  can- 
not, you  may  console  yourself  with  the  reflection,  that  you 
know  just  as  much  about  it  as  I  do.  I  have  an  indistinct 
recollection,  however,  of  seeing  something  white  disappear, 
and  something  black  take  its  place  ;  and  Tom  has  since 
assured  me,  in  a  sorrowful  way,  that  the  black  was  him- 
self, and  that  on  that  memorable  occasion  he  was  nearly 
7 


lOS  VIOLA. 


shaken  to  death.  I  am  rather  inclined  to  think  he  had 
some  foundation  for  his  assertion — from  the  fact,  that  the 
first  thing  I  do  distinctly  remember,  I  was  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  and  had  the  collar  of  his  coat  closely 
compressed  between  two  thumbs  and  several  nervous 
digits. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   BY-ROAD. 

On  quitting  my  hold  of  Tom,  which  I  did  the  moment  I 
had  fairly  regained  my  senses,  I  demanded  to  know  what 
had  become  of  Harley,  who  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

'^  He  gone,  Massa  Hal — two,  four,  seven,  ten  hours  ago,'* 
replied  Tom,  who  had  no  very  extended  knowledge  of  nu- 
merals. 

"  Gone  ?"  echoed  I. 

"  Yes,  Massa  Hal :  he  wait  'bout  short  time,  and  den 
he  tell  me  to  tole  you  you  find  him  at  de  tabern.  I  wait, 
and  wait,  and  wait — till,  golly  !  I  tink  mebby  you  gone  to 
— and  den  I  go  and  'quire  ;  bu-bu-but — " 

Here  Tom  stopped,  rubbed  his  head,  looked  significantly 
at  me,  and  concluded  to  let  the  sentence  end  thus. 

"Well,  boy,  never  mind,"  I  snid:  "  I  abused  you  with- 
out cause,  I  know,  and  you  shall  be  paid  for  it.  Come  ! 
take  up  the  box,  and  let  us  hasten  forward — there  is  no 
telling  in  what  mood  we  shall  find  Harley." 

In  less  than  half  an  hour,  I  stood  upon  the  piazza  of  the 
only  inn  of  a  small  but  pleasant  villagfe. 

"Is  it  possible  you  have  arrived,  Harry?"  exclaimed 
Harley,  coming  out  to  meet  me.  "  Well,  this  is  indeed 
surprising !  Why,  I  thought  you  had  married  your  un- 
known nightingale,  and  had  flown  away,  to  have  a  honey- 
moon of  air  and  melody.  How's  your  stomach  ?  By-the- 
bye,  some  fine  cold  fricasseed  chicken,  ham,  venistn-steak, 
and  apple-dumplings  in  here — would  have  been  hot,  had 

(103) 


104  VIOLA. 


you  come  in  time.  I  thought  I  might  as  well  order  seve^ 
ral  dishes,  seeing  you  are  to  defray  the  expenses.  No  fine 
old  port  here,  or  champaigne ;  but  never  mind — we  may 
find  something  better  yet.  Well,  how  did  you  get  on,  any 
how?  But,  joking  aside,  I  have  learned  something  im- 
portant. No  one  here  knows  anything  of  D'Estang  Ville  ; 
but  a  stranger,  who  overheard  me  making  inquiry  about 
the  carriage,  politely  informed  me  that  he  saw  such  an  one 
stop  at  a  road-side  inn,  some  five  miles  from  here;  and 
that  two  gentlemen,  and  a  very  beautiful  lady,  alighted 
from  it.  I  doubt  not  they  were  those  we  seek ;  and  as 
soon  as  you  have  eaten,  Harry,  I  am  for  pushing  on,  and 
learning  more  about  them  to-night.  Come  !  what  do  you 
say?" 

"  I  am  somewhat  fatigued,  Morton,  with  this  day's  work ; 
but  I  understand  your  anxiety,  and  will  go." 

"  Hasten,  then,  with  your  dinner — for  I  wish  to  get 
there  before  night.  The  inn  is  on  a  by-road  ;  and  though 
I  have  inquired  out  the  way  thither,  so  that  I  think  I  shall 
have  no  difficulty  in  finding  it,  yet  I  would  rather  do  so  by 
daylight.  And  now,"  he  added,  "  it  suddenly  strikes  me, 
as  something  singular,  that  they  should  take  a  by-road, 
and  stop  at  so  obscure  a  place.  Eh  !  Harry — what  do  you 
think  of  it  ?" 

"I  cannot  say  that  I  altogether  like  it,"  I  replied; 
"  though  the  by-road  you  speak  of  may  be  the  nearest  way 
to  D'Estang  Yille ;  and  their  simply  stopping  at  the  inn 
proves  nothing  sinister." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see,"  was  Harley's  reply. 

While  engaged  with  my  meal,  I  gave  him  an  account  of 
my  remarkable  adventure  in  the  way  of  love  and  romance ; 
and  laughing  heartily  at  the  ludicrous  opening,  and  still 
more  ludicrous  finale,  he  said : 


THE   BY-ROAD.  105 


"Why,  Harry,  you  begin  about  as  romantically  as  I 
did;  but  you  end — " 

*'  The  end  is  not  yet,  my  de<ar  fellow,"  I  interrupted. 

"  Well,  success  to  your  affaire  de  coeur,  since  I  see  it 
has  assumed  that  importance,  and  may  it  never  cost  you 
the  misery  mine  has  me.  By  Jove  !  Harry,  fate  and  lova 
seem  to  be  at  work  for  you  as  well  as  me.  How  singular 
that,  in  the  musical  unknown,  you  should  find  the  cousin 
of  the  poor  fellow  we  saw  die  on  the  Neptune !  and  how 
little  you  thought  then,  that  the  unselfish  interest  you  took 
in  his  welfare,  would  eventually  lead  to  the  happiest,  as 
well  as  most  important,  result  of  your  life !" 

"  Stop,  my  dear  fellow ;  you  are  going  into  futurity  a 
little  too  fast ;  it  has  led  to  nothing  as  yet,  but  a  few  hours 
of  very  agreeable  conversation — and — we  may  never  meet 
again." 

Harley  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh ;  and  then  with  a  deep 
sigh,  a  grave  face,  and  doleful  shake  of  the  head,  repeated 
my  words : 

"  And — we  may  never  meet  again.  Poor  fellow  !  I  see 
it  is  all  over  with  you.  Cupid  has  done  his  work.  Well, 
you  must  assist  me  in  my  project  now — and  then  if  I  can 
do  you  a  good  turn,  rest  assured  I  will." 

From  the  little  village  where  we  were  now  stopping, 
which  for  various  reasons  I  shall  not  name,  we  took  the 
road  leading  almost  due  west ;  and  having  pursued  this  a 
couple  of  miles  or  so,  we  came  to  a  rather  obscure  by-road, 
which  branched  off"  to  the  left,  into  a  deep,  dark  forest. 

"  This  is  our  way,"  said  Harley,  pointing  to  it. 

"  You  must  be  mistaken,  I  think,"  I  replied :  "  that  is  not 
a  carriage  road — it  is  only  a  road  for  mules  and  horses." 

*'I  am  right,  nevertheless,'*  rejoined  my  friend,  "for  I 
made  particular  inquiry.     And  see  !"  he  added,  pointing 

9* 


106  VIOLA. 


to  the  ground  ;  "  a  carriage  has  passed  along  here,  for  here 
are  the  marks  of  wheels." 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  are  sure  you're  right,  let  us  push 
ahead ;  but  truth  compels  me  to  say,  I  am  not  pleased  with 
„he  route." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Harley,  looking  troubled.  "  Why  should 
they  take  Viola  over  such  a  lonely  way  as  this  ?  Harry,  I 
repeat,  I  do  not  like  it ;  to  me  there  seems  something  dark 
and  mysterious  about  it ;   I  fear  all  is  not  as  it  should  be." 

"  Of  that  you  may  be  certain,"  I  replied;  "else  they 
would  not,  in  the  first  place,  have  taken  Viola  away  against 
her  will." 

"  Eight,  Harry — right ;  they  may  prove  villains  enough 
for  anything.  Heavens  !  I  grow  uneasy  at  the  thought ! 
Not  till  now  have  I  looked  upon  the  affair  in  this  startling 
light.  Oh,  by  my  hopes  hereafter !  if  they  do  wrong  her, 
they  shall  pay  dearly  for  it.  Ha !  what  a  cut-throat  look- 
ing place !"  continued  Harley,  as  we  advanced  deeper  and 
deeper  into  the  woods.  "Let  us  stop  and  examine  our 
weapons,  Harry ;"  and  as  each  drew  forth  a  pair  of  Colt's 
revolvers,  and  saw  that  everything  was  right,  he  added: 
"  Well,  after  all,  we  have  no  great  deal  to  fear,  while  we 
have  such  powerful  friends  as  these  to  stand  by  us.  And 
there  are  three  of  us,"  he  continued,  nodding  to  Tom,  who 
stood  respectfully  back,  with  a  box  under  each  arm. 
"  I  suppose  we  can  depend  on  him — eh  !  Harry  ?" 

"To  the  death,"  replied  I:  "a  braver  fellow  never 
lived." 

"  Well,  he  must  have  one  of  these  instruments  of  death. 
Can  you  shoot,  Tom  ?" 

"Never  tried  um,  massa,"  answered  the  black. 

"  Come  here  ;"  and  Harley  explained  to  him  how  to  use 
the  revolver — which,  as  most  of  my  readers  know,  simply 


THE   BY-ROAD.  107 


consists,  when  charged,  in  pulling  the  trigger.      "  Well, 
Tom,  what  do  you  think  now  ?" 

"  Spec'  I  could  do  dat,  massa,*'  grinned  Tom. 

"  Well,  take  it,  conceal  it  about  your  person,  and  mind, 
boy,  you  do  not  lay  a  hand  on  it  again  till  we  bid  you,  or 
you  find  it  absolutely  necessary  to  send  a  ball  through 
some  villain's  head  !     Do  you  hear  ?" 

"  Yes,  massa — I  do  just  as  you  tell  um ;"  and  Tom  trans- 
ferred the  revolver  to  a  side-pocket,  with  a  feeling  of  pride 
at  the  confidence  reposed  in  him,  wiiich  I  had  seldom  seen 
expressed  in  his  honest  countenance. 

About  a  mile  further  on,  we  came  to  a  creek,  or  small 
stream,  which  crossed  the  narrow  road  we  were  travelling. 
There  being  no  bridge,  we  were  obliged  to  ford  it ;  which  we 
did,  without  other  inconvenience  than  wetting  our  feet — it 
being  about  knee  deep  in  the  most  shallow  part.  Thus  far 
the  ground  had  been  nearly  level,  but  very  heavily  wooded ; 
and  since  turning  into  this  by-path — for  it  hardly  deserved 
the  name  of  road — we  had  seen  no  trace  of  a  habitation. 
Every  thing  looked  sombre  and  gloomy ;  and  to  add  to  the 
dreariness  of  our  journey,  the  day  was  nearly  spent,  and 
we  knew  that  night  must  soon  overtake  us.  The  marks  of 
wheels  were  here  visible,  and  had  been  all  the  way  hither  ; 
but  what  was  somewhat' singular — or  perhaps  I  should  say 
suspicious — was  the  fact,  that  we  could  no  where  discover 
the  trace  of  more  than  one  carriage  having  passed  over  this 
route — thus  showing,  conclusively,  it  was  not  frequented  by 
conveyances  of  this  description.  From  the  creek,  as  small 
streams  are  usually  termed  here,  we  ascended  a  slight  emi- 
nence, and  beheld,  with  any  thing  but  pleasant  feelings, 
the  path  we  were  pursuing  descend  into  a  swampy  look- 
ing wood,  between  two  walls  of  dense  undergrowth,  whose 
spreading  branches,  meeting  overhead,  almost  shut  out  day- 
light, and  made  our  way  appear  dismal  enough. 


108  VIOLA. 


On  perceiving  this,  Harlej  looked  more  troubled  and 
anxious ;  but  compressing  his  lips,  and  knitting  his  brows, 
as  one  whose  mind  is  made  up  for  the  worst,  he  merely 
said : 

"  Come,  Harry,  let  us  quicken  our  pace." 

AYe  did  so,  and  pushed  forward  in  silence — each  experi- 
encing that  intense,  gloomy  depression  of  spirits,  which  in- 
clines one  to  commune  with  himself  rather  than  with  another 
— when  one  feels  that  the  human  voice,  even  his  own,  must 
prove  discordant  with  his  feelings. 

We  kept  on  perhaps  a  mile  further — our  road  changing 
not  for  the  better,  and  still  without  sign  of  habitation — 
when  the  sun  went  down,  and  the  shadows  of  approaching 
night  fell  upon  our  lonesome  way,  making  it  impossible  to 
distinguish  objects  at  more  than  a  couple  of  rods  from  the 
eye.  As  if  to  increase  the  disagreeableness  of  our  jour- 
ney, we  now  occasionally  heard  the  hideous  howl  of  some 
hungry  wolf,  the  hooting  of  neighboring  owls,  the  chirping 
and  humming  of  night  insects,  an^  the  whirring,  flapping 
sound  of  bats,  which  began  to  cross  our  path  in  numbers, 
before  and  behind,  whirling  round  us,  sometimes  almost 
brushing  our  faces,  as  if  indignant  that  human  foot  should 
intrude  upon  a  territory  that  nature  had  marked  as  their 
own.  Night,  too,  came  down  upon-  us  so  fast,  that  in  five 
minutes  more  we  found  it  impossible  to  keep  the  path,  only 
by  fixing  our  eyes  upon  the  narrow  streak  of  light  that 
was  dimly  visible  through  the  meeting  branches  overhead. 

'•  Well,"  spoke  Harley,  at  length,  gloomily,  "  this  is 
more  than  I  bargained  for.     Were  it  not  that — " 

*'  Hello  I"  said  a  gruff  voice,  so  close  to  us  that  both  in- 
Toluntarily  started,  and  laid  our  hayds  on  our  revolvers. 

^'Who  are  you?"  demanded  Harley,  sharply  and 
quickly. 

"  Wall,  stranger,  first,  who  ar'  you  ?"  returned  the  voice, 


THE  BY-ROAD.  109 


in  that  broad,  strong  accent  peculiar  to  the  backwoods- 
men of  the  West  and  South ;  and  we  now  became  aware, 
rather  by  sound  than  sight,  that  the  speaker  was  directly 
in  front  of  us 

"  We  are  travellers,"  I  hastened  to  answer. 

"  Ha  !  another  voice,"  said  the  unknown  ;  "  how  many 
are  ye  ?" 

"  By  what  right  do  you  question,  sir  ?"  I  demanded,  be- 
ginning to  grow  indignant. 

"  Wall,  no  partikler  right,"  answered  the  other — "  only 
I'm  a  traveller  too,  and  this  arn't  the  safest  place  in  the 
world  to  run  agin  strangers." 

"  You  have  nothing  to  fear  from  us,  if  you  are  peaceably 
disposed,"  said  Harley. 

*'  Oh,  as  to  that  matter,  reckon  thar  arn't  much  skeer 
'bout  me,"  replied  the  voice,  in  a  careless,  off-hand  tone. 
"I'm  for  peace  or  fight,  just  which  happens  to  be  trumps." 

*'  Well,  do  you  know  the  country  round  here  ?"  inquired 
Harley. 

*'  Hev  seed  some  on't  in  ray  time,  expect,"  was  the  an 
Bwer. 

"  Is  there  a  tavern  on  ahead  ?" 

•'  Two  on  *em  ef  you  like." 

*'  How  far  is  it  to  the  first  ?" 

"  You  mean  the  best  ?" 

"No,  the  nearest." 

"  Wall,  a  good  mile'n  a  half  '11  fetch  you  thar." 

"  Is  it  a  respectable  house  ?" 

"  Better  ax  old  Mike  Browes,  the  lan'ord,  that  thar 
question — he'll  tell  ye,  stranger, — ha,  ha,  ha !  But, 
jokin'  aside,  it's  a  rum  place  for  them  as  has  the  rhino. 
'Spect  you've  got  the  tin,  eh  ?" 

"  None  to  boast  of,  though  perhaps  enough  to  pay  for  a 


110  VIOLA. 


night's  lodging,"  replied  Harley.  "But  is  the  road  from 
here  there  all  the  way  like  this  ?" 

"  Why,  some'at  so — leastways  till  you  strike  a  cl'aring, 
a  piece  this  side." 

"  Then  there  is  a  clearing  in  this  part  of  the  world  ?" 
rejoined  Harley,  ironically. 

"  Al'ays,  stranger,  when  you  come  to  em,"  was  the 
ready  and  characteristic  reply. 

"  Thank  you — we  will  now  set  forward  :  good  evening, 
sir." 

"  Good-night,"  replied  the  stranger ;  and  still  keeping 
his  place  in  the  centre  of  the  road,  he  managed  to  touch 
each  of  us,  as  if  by  accident,  as  we  passed  by  him ;  and 
then  we  heard  him  mutter  to  himself,  but  could  not 
distinguish  what  he  said. 

"  I  do  not  like  it,"  said  Harley  to  me,  in  a  low  tone, 
when  we  had  got  beyond  earshot  of  the  stranger.  "  There 
is  something  wrong  here,  depend  upon  it ;  but  we  are  in 
for  it  now,  and  must  take  our  chance.  Keep  close,  Tom, 
and  let  us  all  be  wary." 

"  What  do  you  apprehend?"  inquired  I. 

"  I  do  not  know;  we  are  in  a  part  of  the  world  where 
all  sorts  of  crime  abound,  and  should  be  on  our  guard  for 
the  worst." 

Our  progress  through  the  wood  was  now  necessarily 
slow,  by  reason  of  the  darkness ;  but  in  less  than  half-an- 
hour  we  reached  the  opening,  with  no  other  incident  worth 
recording,  than  the  howl  of  one  or  two  wolves  a  little 
nearer  than  was  agreeable.  On  gaining  the  clearing,  we 
could  see  our  way  much  better ;  and  soon  after  we  found 
ourselves  in  front  of  a  large,  rough-looking,  two-story  build- 
ing, which  proved  to  be  the  inn  of  which  we  were  in  search. 

There  was  a  light  in  the  lower  room,  and  we  heard  the 
Bound  of  many  voices. 


THE   BY-ROAD.  Ill 


"  Is  it  not  singular,  Harry,"  said  Harlej,  after  listening 
a  short  time,  "that  there  should  be  so  many  persons 
assembled  in  this  out-of-the-way  place  ?" 

"What  do  you  infer  from  it?"  I  inquired. 

"Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  apprehensive  it  is 
a  haunt  of  robbers." 

"  I  must  admit  I  am  much  of  the  same  opinion — at  least 
•things  look  suspicious." 

"  Well,  we  can  judge  better  after  having  seen  the 
interior.  Let  us  keep  together,  and  be  civil,  and  we 
may  meet  with  no  diflSculty ;  but  should  they  attempt  to 
molest  us,  we  know  who  are  our  true  friends ;"  and  Harley 
tapped  the  butt  of  a  revolver.  "I  shall  assume  my 
French  character  while  here ;  and  if  you  have  occasion  to 
address  me  by  name,  remember  it  is  Jacques.  Tom,  you 
will  keep  ever  with  us ;  and  mind  you  do  not  allow  your- 
self to  get  separated.  And,  Harry,  make  no  inquiry  about 
the  carriage  or  its  occupants — leave  all  that  to  me." 

Saying  this,  Harley  boldly  advanced  to  the  door,  opened 
it,  and  entered — I  keeping  close  to  his  heels,  and  Tom 
bringing  up  the  rear  with  the  boxes. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


MORE   MYSTERY. 


We  now  found  ourselves  in  a  large  room,  poorly  lighted, 
poorly  furnished,  and  strong  Vy^ith  the  fumes  of  tobacco. 
In  one  corner  was  a  pantry-like  bar,  with  a  few  shelves 
along  the  wall,  garnished  with  bottles  and  tumblers,  and  a 
wooden  grating  in  front,  a  portion  of  which  belonged  to 
the  door  opening  into  it.  There  were  three  or  four  small 
tables  standing  along  the  wall  farthest  from  the  door ;  and 
at  two  of  these,  on  stoola  and  benches,  sat  some  half-a- 
dozen  rough-looking  fellows,  playing  cards  by  the  light  of 
two  tallow  candles.  They  all  looked  up  on  our  entrance, 
and  stared  at  us  a  moment  or  two  ;  and  then,  as  the 
majority  resumed  their  games,  one  of  their  number  arose, 
and  handing  his  cards  to  his  nearest  companion,  said  : 

"Here,  Bill,  take  my  hand;"  and  he  added  something 
in  a  whisper.  He  then  advanced  to  us,  and  continued  : 
"  Good  evening,  gents  ;  travellers,  I  reckon  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  answered — "  peddlers,  who  wish  to  get  a  night's 
lodging." 

"Well,  I  can  'commodate  you,  expect,"  replied  the 
landlord,  for  such  the  speaker  was,  as  he  took  a  rather 
close  survey  of  our  persons.     "Want  supper,  'spose  ?" 

"  No,  we  dined  rather  late,  and  having  none  too  muck 
money,  must  try  and  get  along  without  the  expense  of 
another  meal,"  I  replied. 

Again  the  host — who  was  a  stout,  heavily  built  man,  of 
about  forty,  with  black  hair  and  beard,  large  bushy  ey# 
(112) 


MOEE    MYSTERY.  113 


brows,  that  met  at  the  line  of  the  nose,  and  a  countenance 
otherwise  strongly  marked — examined  us  with  an  air  of 
some  curiosity,  and  then  rejoined,  pointing  to  Tom : 

"  This  nigger — is  he  a  peddler,  too  ?" 

"No,  he  merely  carries  our  boxes." 

"  Wall,  must  say  you  travel  rayther  stiff,  to  be  so  short 
of  the  rhino." 

"  If  we  pay  for  all  we  call  for,  I  suppose  that  is  nobody's 
business  but  our  own,"  I  replied,  a  little  sharply,  begin- 
ning to  grow  indignant  at  what  I  considered  a  species  of 
insolence. 

*'  Oh,  certainly,"  replied  the  host,  with  a  confused 
laugh:  ''meant  no  harm,  stranger.  You're  right — no- 
body's business.  Come,  sit  down ;"  and  he  pointed  to 
some  vacant  benches  near.  "  Shall  I  take  care  of  your 
boxes  for  you  ?" 

"  No,  thank  you — will  not  put  you  to  that  trouble — Tom 
can  do  that,  for  that  is  all  he  has  to  do,"  I  replied, 
carelessly. 

"Wall,  please  yourselves,  gents.  If  you  don't  want 
anything,  why  I'll  just  finish  my  hand.  By-the-by, 
would  you  like  a  game  to  yourselves? — plenty  of  cards." 

"No,  I  never  play,"  I  replied. 

"  Sometime,  monsieur,  I  was  play  in  Nouvelle  Orlean," 
now  spoke  Harley  for  the  first  time ;  "  and  I  lose  six,  ten, 
seven  dollare ;  and,  by  gar  !  I  play  no  not  agin,  nevare." 

"A  cheap  bought  experience,  my  French  friend,"  said 
the  host,  with  a  laugh ;  and  he  returned  to  the  table  and 
resumed  his  game. 

The  company  seemed  in  good  spirits — for  they  laughed, 
cracked  rough  jokes,  swore  some,  drank,  smoked,  and 
continued  playing,  paying  no  attention  to  us  beyond  a 
glance  now  and  then,  such  as  frequenters  of  bar-rooms  of 
a  like  character  to  this  usually  bestow  upon  strangers, 

10 


114  VIOLA. 


We  sat  and  watched  them  for  about  an  hour,  when  I 
signified  to  the  landlord  that  we  would  retire  for  the  night. 

*'  Sleep  together  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  Yes  ;  and  if  you  have  something  to  throw  on  the 
floor,  Tom  will  occupy  the  same  apartment." 

The  host  called  a  drowsy-looking  negro,  handed  him  a 
light,  gave  him  some  private  instructions,  and  bade  us 
follow  him.  We  quitted  the  room  by  a  flight  of  stairs  at 
the  end  opposite  the  players  ;  and  as  I  looked  back,  I  saw 
the  whole  company,  the  host  not  excepted,  busy  with 
their  cards.  No  one  seemed  to  think  it  worth  his  while  to 
look  after  us ;  and  this,  I  must  confess,  lessened  my 
uneasiness,  and  lightened  my  suspicions.  Still,  I  by  no 
means  felt  satisfied  that  all  was  right.  I  did  not  altogether 
like  the  looks  of  the  persons  here  assembled ;  and  I  could 
not  divest  myself  of  the  idea,  that  they  had  a  motive  in 
meeting  here,  so  many  of  them,  beyond  the  mere  excite- 
ment of  playing  cards.  Had  there  been  dwellings  along 
the  road  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  I  should  have  thought 
less  of  it ;  but  unless  they  lived  here,  which  was  not 
probable,  they  must  have  come  from  a  distance. 

Thus  I  reflected,  as  we  followed  our  black  guide  up  the 
stairs.  We  entered  a  large  apartment,  which  ran  along 
the  front  of  the  house,  over  the  bar-room,  and  whose  only 
furniture  consisted  of  half-a-dozen  squalid-looking  beds, 
and  two  or  three  benches.  From  this  we  passed  into 
another  room  of  small  dimensions,  which  contained  a  de- 
cent looking  bed,  a  small  mirror,  a  wash-stand,  a  tin  basin, 
a  towel,  and  a  couple  of  old,  rickety  chairs.  The  black 
put  down  the  light,  and  going  into  the  other  room,  re- 
turned with  a  dirty-looking  mattress,  which  he  threw  on 
the  floor  for  Tom.  He  then  inquired  if  we  wished  for 
anything  more;  and  being  answered  in  the  negative,  he 
groped  his  way  down  stairs,  leaving  us  to  ourselves.    We 


MORE   MYSTERY.  115 


closed  the  door,  and  saw  that  its  only  fastening  was  an  iron 
latch. 

"Well,  Harry,  what  do  you  think  of  it?"  inquired  my 
friend  in  a  whisper. 

"  I  cannot  say  I  am  very  well  pleased — but  I  think  they 
meditate  no  harm  to  us." 

"I  agree  with  you,  Harry — but  also  think  it  best  to  be 
on  our  guard.  We  must  not  all  sleep  at  the  same  time, 
and  this  door  must  be  fastened  by  placing  the  bed  against 
it.     And  now  let  us  examine  the  room  carefully." 

We  did  so — ceiling,  walls,  and  floor — no  part,  not  even 
a  crack,  escaping  a  keen  scrutiny.  But  save  that  the  win- 
dow was  not  large  enough  to  allow  a  person  to  jump  out — 
and  that  the  partition,  in  which  the  door  was  hung,  did  not 
quite  reach  to  the  ceiling  above — we  discovered  nothing 
calculated  to  increase  our  uneasiness  or  suspicion.  I  now 
opened  the  door,  and  setting  the  candle  behind  it,  peered 
into  the  larger  apartment.  There  were  two  windows  in 
front,  next  to  the  road,  and  one  of  these  was  just  suffi- 
ciently open  to  admit  the  gentle  play  of  a  cool,  pleasant 
night-breeze.  I  took  off  my  boots,  advanced  to  it  softly, 
and  looked  out.  It  was  dark,  very  dark ;  but  I  could  see 
a  few  of  the  brighter  stars  through  a  hazy  atmosphere;  and 
all  around  appeared  quiet,  as  if  nature  were  taking  a  calm 
repose — not  even  the  howl  of  a  wolf,  or  the  hoot  of  an 
owl,  broke  the  stillness — nothing,  in  fact,  but  the  voices 
and  occasional  laughter  of  the  persons  below.  Chancing 
to  cast  my  eyes  to  the  ceiling,  I  perceived  a  spot  of  light 
thereon,  about  the  size  of  a  dollar.  I  naturally  looked 
down  to  find  its  source,  and  saw  it  came  through  a  knot- 
hole in  the  floor.  With  great  care,  lest  my  feet  should  be 
heard,  I  approached  this,  and  placing  my  eye  to  it,  had  a 
full  view  of  the  party  underneath.  They  were  still  intent 
on  their  jrames  as  when  I  left  them  :  and  after  watchins 


116  VIOLA. 


them  a  few  minutes,  I  returned  to  my  room,  and  reported 
to  Harley  what  I  had  seen. 

"Well,"  he  replied,  in  a  whisper,  *'this  confirms  me  in 
my  belief,  that  we  have  nothing  to  fear ;  but  a  little  extra 
caution  can  do  us  no  harm.  Come,  let  us  place  the  bed 
and  turn  in." 

We  were  on  the  point  of  doing  so,  when  we  heard  a 
clattering  sound,  as  of  a  horse  coming  at  full  speed.  We 
listened.  It  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  and  in  less  than 
three  minutes  seemed  to  halt  at  the  door.  I  hastened  to 
the  window,  and  was  just  in  time  to  see  a  figure  spring 
from  its  back,  and  advance  quickly  toward  the  house.  I 
hurried  to  the  aperture  in  the  floor,  and  though  I  could 
not  see  him  enter,  I  saw  him  a  moment  after,  approaching 
the  tables  where  the  players  sat.  His  step  was  quick  and 
elastic,  and  his  bearing  lordly.  He  wore  a  kind  of  blue 
uniform,  and  had  a  black  mask  on  his  face.  His  person 
■was  instantly  recognized,  and  I  was  struck  with  the  defer- 
ence which  all  paid  him.  Each  man  rose  to  his  feet,  threw 
down  his  cards,  and  uttering  the  single  word  "  Captain," 
stood  in  respectful  silence  till  addressed. 

"  Any  strangers  here,  Mike  ?"  inquired  the  new-comer 
of  the  landlord,  in  a  rapid  tone,  with  a  slight  foreign 
accent. 

"  Two  peddlers  and  a  nigger,  but  they  are  gone  to  bed," 
was  the  answer. 

The  new-comer  now  removed  his  mask,  and  I  saw  that 
he  was  a  rather  good-looking  gentleman  of  five-and-thirty, 
with  a  moustache  on  his  lip,  fine,  sharp,  pale  features,  and 
eyes  black,  sparkling,  and  intense. 

"  I  want  another  horse,  Mike,"  he  continued  ;  "  the 
best  blood  you  have,  and  a  hasty  lunch.  In  ten  minutes  I 
must  be  on  the  road,  for  I  intend  to  reach  home  by  sun- 
rise." 


MORE   MYSTERY. 


lit 


"  It's  a  long  journey,  Cap'en,  to  be  got  over  in  tha* 
time ;  but  Black  Bess  can  do  her  part  to  Ned  Long's ;  and 
that's  a  cool  twenty-five  miles ;  and  thar  you  must  git 
another  critter  to  take  you  through  to  your  Ville.  I  believe 
one  animal  can  do  it  from  thar — though  it's  been  so  long 
since  I  rid  it,  I  most  forgit." 

"You  are  right;  but  you  forget  something  else— the 
horse  and  lunch." 

"In  a  twinkling,  Cap'en;"  and  the  landlord  withdrew 
in  haste,  to  execute  his  orders. 

"Well,  my  good  fellows,"  continued  the  Captain,  (as 
for  convenience  I  will  call  him,)  "  what  success  with  the 
last  ?  good — eh  ?" 

"Yes,  Cap'en — yes,  your  honor,"  answered  all  at  once. 

"No  trouble  in  sliding  now,  eh  ?" 

"  Goes  easy,  Cap'en." 

"What  are  you  doing  here?" 

"Why,"  answered  one,  "we're  just  on  our  way  out, 
and  thought  we'd  stop  and  have  a  jolly  parting  cup  with 
old  Mike." 

"Well,  right;  you  deserve  to  enjoy  yourselves.  But 
in  a  lower  tone)  these  peddlers — did  you  trade  ?" 

"Didn't  try,  Cap'en — too  near  home." 

"  Ah  !  yes — a  good  idea — it  is  as  well.  They  suspect 
nothing,  eh  ?" 

"If  I  thought  they  did,  I'd—" 

"  No,  no.  Bill — none  of  that ;  do  nothing  rash,  for  so 
slight  a  cause  ;  there  are  always  cases  enough  of  necessity. 
Were  they  proving  troublesome,  then — "  and  the  Captain 
ended  by  laying  his  finger  on  his  lips. 

Here  the  landlord  returned,  and  the  Captain  withdrew 
with  him,  first  telling  the  others  to  resume  their  games, 
which  they  did.  About  five  minutes  after,  the  front  door 
opened,  and  a  negro,  thrusting  his  head  in,  said : 


lis  VIOLA: 


"  Hoss  ready  for  gemman." 

Soon  after  I  heard  the  Captain  say : 

"  Good  night,  friends,  and  have  a  care." 

"  Good-night,  Cap'en  !  Good-night,  your  honor !  Long 
life  to  ye !"  were  the  several  replies. 

I  now  heard  the  door  open,  and  hastened  to  the  window. 
Harley  was  already  there. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  we  heard  the  host  laugh:  "she's  coy, 
Cap'en,  I  know — I  seen  it ;  and  she's  got  speret  too — hut 
she'll  tame  powerful  under  your  hands." 

"I  bring  a  little  experience  to  the  trial,"  laughed  the 
other  ;  "  and  I  have  a  way  of  my  own  in  such  matters. 
But  remember — not  a  word  to  the  others." 

"  Oh,  trust  me  !     I'm  nobody's  fool — no  !" 

"  Well,  au  revoir  !  I  ride  to  beauty's  bower,"  rejoined 
the  other ;  and  mounting  a  horse  held  by  the  negro,  he 
added :  "  Next  time,  Mike,  I  hope  to  tell  you  more  ;"  and, 
with  the  last  word,  he  touched  the  fiery  beast  with  his  spur, 
and  was  instantly  lost  in  the  darkness,  speeding  away  like 
an  arrow. 

I  felt  a  pressure  on  my  arm ;  and  turning  to  Harley,  I 
became  aware  that  he  was  in  a  fainting  condition.  Placing 
an  arm  around  his  waist,  I  raised  and  bore  him  to  our 
room,  laid  him  on  the  bed,  and  wet  his  forehead  with  cold 
water.  In  a  minute  or  so  he  revived,  and  sat  up,  support- 
ing himself  against  my  shoulder. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  I  whispered,  for  I  did  not  care  to 
Bpeak  aloud,  "  what  is  the  matter  ?     Are  you  ill  ?" 

"  I  am  better  now,  thank  you,"  he  whispered  in  reply, 
"  I  did  feel  ill  for  the  moment — intense  and  painful  though* 
seemed  to  make  my  brain  dizzy.  Harry,  tell  me,  candidly, 
am  I  a  fool,  or  am  I  not  ?" 

"  Why  such  a  question,  my  friend  ?"       • 


MORE   MTSTERT.  119 


"Because  I  am  unaccountably  impressed  with  the  idea, 
that  he  who  just  now  rode  away  is  Count  D'Estang." 

'*  Then  if  that  make  you  a  fool,  I  am  another,  for  I  am 
of  the  same  opinion,  though  I  can  give  no  good  and  suffi- 
cient reason  therefor." 

"  Ah  !  I  felt  it  in  my  soul,  as  one  feels  a  barb  in  his  flesh. 
Harry,  tell  me  not  that  the  human  mind  possesses  not  that 
faculty  called  instinct.  We  do  have  it ;  and  it  is  mightier 
than  reason,  and  surer  than  reflection.  Tell  me  what  you 
saw  and  heard." 

I  did  so. 

"  That  word  *  Ville,'  strengthens  me  in  my  suspicion," 
he  said,  as  I  repeated  the  language  of  the  host. 

"It  first  excited  mine,"  I  replied. 

"  What  does  he  here  ?  and  what  means  his  connection 
with  these  men?  Oh,  that  the  morrow  were  come!  The 
plot  thickens,  Harry;  and  if  it  go  on  thus  to  the  end,  we 
shall  make  ourselves  heroes  of  a  living  romance.  Oh, 
Viola  !  Viola  !  would  I  were  with  thee,  to  guard  thee  from 
peril,  or  perish  in  thy  defence !  Heaven  help  me !  I  shall 
sleep  none  to-night.  Sleep  you,  Harry :  I  will  watch.  Oh, 
that  the  morrow  were  come  !     I  am  miserable." 

Thus  Harley  went  on  for  some  five  or  ten  minutes,  when 
he  grew  calmer,  and  began  to  tell  me  over  his  plans  with 
regard  to  her  he  loved.  I  was  fatigued  and  drowsy ;  and  get 
ting  the  bedstead  moved  against  the  door,  I  turned  in,  and 
was  soon  fast  asleep — the  monotonous  whispering  of  my 
friend  being  the  last  sound  I  heard. 

He  talked  of  Viola  St.  Auburn — I  dreamed  of  Clara 
Moreland. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

SUSPICIONS   AND    CERTAINTIES. 

In  the  small  hours  of  the  morning,  I  was  awakened  by 
my  friend,  who  said  that  if  I  would  watch  the  remainder  of 
the  night,  he  would  try  and  get  some  rest.  I  did  so. 
Nothing,  however,  occurred  to  alarm  us ;  and  a  little  after 
day-light  we  rose,  dressed,  and  went  below.  As  we  passed 
through  the  larger  chamber,  I  saw  that  the  majority  of  the 
beds  were  occupied — but  we  passed  on,  disturbing  no  one, 
and  without  being  ourselves  disturbed. 

In  the  bar-room  we  found  the  landlord,  who  met  us  with 
a  cheerful  countenance. 

"  Hope  you  slept  well,"  he  said. 

"  Like  logs,"  was  my  answer ;  and  Tom,  who  was  yawn- 
ing and  rubbing  his  eyes,  seemed  confirmation  of  the  as- 
sertion. 

"  Rayther  poor  country  for  your  business,"  said  the 
host. 

"Why,  it  seems  rather  thinly  peopled  along  here,"  I  re- 
joined. 

"  By-the-bye,  what  have  you  got  to  sell?" 

"  Jewelry." 

"  Umph !  not  much  of  them  trinkets  wanted  around 
here :  we  rough,  back-wood's  fellows  go  in  for  things  more 
useful." 

"  How  far  is  it  to  the  next  tavern  ?" 

"  Wall,  ef  you  turn  up  on  to  the  main  road — But  which 
way  are  you  travelling?" 
(120) 


SUSPICIONS   AND    CERTAINTIES.  121 

"West." 

"Wall,  on  the  main  road — which  you  must  have  left 
back  here  'bout  three  or  four  mile — you'll  come  to  a  tavern 
in  about  ten  mile ;  but  along  this,  you'll  have  to  travel  'bout 
twenty-five." 

"Any  houses  on  this  road?" 

"  None  to  speak  on — leastways  none  whar  you'll  be 
likely  to  sell  much." 

"I  was  want  to  find  one  Monsieur  D'Estang,"  now 
chimed  in  Harley.  "  Somebody  was  tell  me  he  was  leeve 
in  zis  contree — but  I  was  coome  several  mile,  and  I  no  see 
him." 

"  Ha  !  do  you  know  him  ?"  queried  the  host,  quickly,  with 
awakened  interest,  looking  at  us  more  keenly. 

"I  was  hear  of  him,"  replied  Harley,  with  a  significant 
shrug  :  "  him  one  countreeman." 

"Yes,  both  French." 

"  You  was  know  him,  eh  ?" 

"I  didn't  say  so — but  the  name's  French.'* 

"  Oui,  monsieur — one  grande  nam'  Fran9ais." 

"You  want  to  see  him  on  pertickler  business  V 

Harley  answered  by  another  significant  shrug. 

"A  little  in  the" — and  the  landlord  made  a  peculiar 
sign. 

Harley  smiled,  with  another  shrug. 

"  So,  aha !  why  didn't  you  make  this  known  last 
night  ?" 

"  I  mak'  not'ing  known,  monsieur — not  I — aha  !" 

"  I  see — very  shrewd  :  sell  jewelry — capital !  Take  so* 
thing  ?"  and  the  host  nodded  toward  the  bar. 

"You  was  be  one,  eh  ?"  and  Harley  winked  knowingly, 
and  gave  another  shrug,  which  in  a  Frenchman  always 
Bays  so  much. 

"  You  shall  see  ;"  and  the  landlord  seized  the  hand  of 


122  VIOLA. 


mj  friend,  squeezed  it  in  a  peculiar  way,  pressing  his  thumb 
strongly  on  one  of  the  knuckles. 

*'Aha  !  was  convince — oui — varree  rejoice  I  learn  you: 
I  was  drink  you  health." 

"  You  should  have  made  yourselves  known  last  night," 
pursued  the  host,  as  he  entered  the  bar,  and  set  a  bottle  of 
brandy  on  the  counter.  "You  mought  hev  got  into 
trouble." 

We  drank  to  each  other's  future  success ;  and  then  Har- 
ley  said : 

"  But  you  was  not  tell  me  where  Monsieur  D'Estang  ?" 

"  True,  thar,  gents ;"  and  the  communicative  host  pro- 
ceeded to  put  us  in  possession  of  the  very  important  fact, 
with  such  particulars  as  left  us  no  doubt  about  finding  our 
way  thither.  "Ef  I'd  only  known  you  last  night,"  he 
said,  in  conclusion,  "  I  mought  perhaps  have  saved  you  a 
journey." 

*'How  so  ?"  inquired  I. 

"  Why,  the  Cap'en  was  here." 

"  Indeed !  here  V  echoed  I,  with  a  look  of  amazement ; 
*'  how  unfortunate  we  did  not  know  it !" 

"  All  your  own  fault ;  you  oughter  knowed  Mike  Browse, 
anyhow.     By-the-by,  I  forgot  to  ax  who  sent  you  here." 

"  We  was  coome  accidental,"  answered  Harley,  quickly, 
lest  I  should  get  confused  —  a  very  timely  precaution. 
"We  was  just  in  zis  contree  from  Nouvelle  Orlean." 

"  From  New  Orleans  ?"  repeated  the  other,  musingly. 
Then  suddenly :   "  Surely,  you  are  not  the — " 

"  Oui,"  replied  Harley,  at  a  venture,  as  he  paused. 

"  Give  us  your  hand  again,"  cried  the  landlord,  joyfully. 
**  Glad  to  see  you,  as  ef  I'd  trod  on  a  nail.  I  know'd  he'd 
send  some  one — ^but  I  mistook  your  business.  The  Cap'en 
'11  be  glad  to  see  you,  too — though  he's  got  a  good  work- 


SUSPICIONS   AND   CERTAINTIES.  123 

man  since  he  writ ;  but  that's  no  matter ;  al'ays  plenty  to 
do  in  our  profession — ha,  ha,  ha  !" 

**Where,  when,  and  how,  will  this  mystification  end?" 
thought  I.  I  knew  Harley  must  be  as  much  perplexed  as 
myself — though  his  air  and  look  was  that  of  one  who  un 
derstood  the  whole  matter  perfectly. 

Happening  to  glance  at  Tom,  who  stood  back,  with  a  box 
under  each  arm,  the  host  continued,  knowingly,  nodding 
toward  the  black  : 

"Have  the  tools  thar,  expect?'' 

"  Oui,"  said  Harley ;  "  some  jewelry,  and  de  tool.'* 

"  Could  I  just  look  at  them  ?" 

"  I  was  like  oblige — but,  pardonnez  moi !  it  was  with  me 
one  grande  secrete  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  understand.  Well,  come  in  and  take  breakfast ; 
and  as  I  hear  our  friends  stirring  overhead,  I'll  introduce 
you  to  some  good  fellows." 

"Pardonnez  moi!"  returned  Harley:  "I  was  like  to 
mak*  acquaint  with  gentilhomme — but  I  was  not  speak  to 
only  Capitaine.  I  was  maybe  do  wrong  speak  to  you,  1 
do  assure :  you  see,  eh  ?'* 

"Oh, never  mind,  then — mum — you  shall  eat  private." 

During  our  meal,  the  landlord  continued  his  mysterious 
inquiries ;  but  Harley,  by  a  peculiar  run  of  good  luck,  an- 
swered each  to  his  satisfaction ;  and  while  my  friend  and  I 
were  puzzling  our  brains  to  know  what  it  all  meant,  the 
host  seemed  to  pride  himself  on  the  valuable  discovery  he 
had  made.  When  we  came  to  settle  our  bill,  he  refused  to 
take  a  cent ;  and  on  leaving,  he  whispered  in  our  ears  the 
pass-word,  as  he  called  it. 

"  Well,  what  does  all  this  mean  ?"  said  I,  when  we  were 
once  more  alone  upon  the  road. 

"  Really,  1  felt  like  asking  that  question  myself,"  re- 


124  yiOLA. 


plied  Harlej.  "But  it  means  something — there  is  no 
doubt  about  that." 

"  These  men  are  banded  together  for  some  secret  par- 
pose,  and  at  the  head  of  them  is  Monsieur  D'Estang,"  said 
I ;  "so  much  we  know — the  only  question  being  as  regards 
the  purpose." 

"  What  say  you  to  counterfeiters,  Harry  ?" 

'  Faith  !  you  might  have  been  more  unlikely  in  your 
surmise — for  supposing  them  such,  I  can  see  a  meaning  in 
nearly  everything  that  was  said." 

"  Can  you  not  in  quite  everything,  Harry?" 

*  Why,  the  tools — what  could  he  mean  by  them  V* 

"  Can  dies  and  plates  be  made  without  tools  ?" 

"  Ha  !  true  :  and  so  he  believes  us — " 

"  Perhaps  die-sinkers  or  engravers." 

"  But  not  knowing  this,  how  dared  you  venture  to  an- 
swer his  questions  in  the  way  you  did  ?" 

"  Why,  I  knew  I  must  venture  something,  after  the  con- 
versation had  opened  as  you  know  how ;  and  I  thought  I 
might  as  well  risk  much  as  little  :  the  result  proved  me 
right ;  besides,  I  was  anxious  to  draw  him  on,  in  order  to 
get  some  special  information  concerning  D'Estang.  So 
then  I  was  not  wrong  in  my  surmise  !  and  it  was  he,  the 
scoundrel,  that  was  here  last  night,  boasting  of  his  power 
over  his  prisoner,  who  of  course  is  none  other  than  Viola ! 
Oh,  it  is  well  I  no  more  than  suspected  him  last  night !  for 
had  I  been  certain  of  his  identity,  I  do  not  know  what  rash 
thing,  under  a  sudden,  wild  impulse,  I  might  not  have 
done.  I  verily  believe  I  should  have  attempted  his  life ; 
and  whether  I  succeeded  or  failed,  I  should  have  got  my- 
self and  you  into  most  serious  difficulty.  I  am  rejoiced 
all  has  happened  as  it  has  ;  for  now  I  know  where  to  look 
for  him,  and  am  prepared  to  fight  him  invisibly,  with  the 
subtle   weapons    of  cunning  and  stratagem.      And   now, 


SUSPICIONS   AND   CERTAINTIES.  125 

Harry,  Tve  must  make  our  way,  as  fast  as  possible,  to  the 
inn  on  the  main  road,  wbere,  if  horses  can  be  procured, 
we  will  set  forward  at  such  speed  as  money  can  purchase. 
I  feel  there  is  no  time  to  delay :  in  the  hands  of  such  a 
villain,  Viola  is  not  safe  a  day.  Oh,  that  I  had  wings  to 
fly  to  her  rescue !  What  if  he  should  force  her  into  a 
marriage,  Harry  ?" 

"  He  will  not  venture  so  much,  so  soon,  I  think,  Mor- 
ton." 

*'I  pray  he  may  not!"  said  Harley,  in  a  tone  of  sup- 
pressed passion,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  a  wild,  fearful 
light ;  "  I  pray  he  may  not !  earnestly  pray  he  may  not ! 
for  her  sake,  his  sake,  my  own ; — but  if  he  do  thus  wrong 
her,  Harry,  by  that  awful,  dread  eternity  to  which  we  are 
hastening !  I  solemnly  swear,  not  to  rest,  day  nor  night,  till 
she  is  avenged — terribly,  bloodily  avenged  !" 

About  a  mile  beyond  the  inn  where  we  had  spent  the 
night,  the  narrow  road  we  were  pursuing,  forked.  We  took 
the  right,  and  were  glad  to  perceive  the  carriage  of  D'Es- 
tang  had  done  the  same.  A  mile,  or  perhaps  a  little  more 
than  a  mile,  still  further  on,  we  again  struck  the  main 
road,  much  to  our  delight — for  though  neither  of  us  were 
cowards,  to  fear  each  bush  and  shadow,  yet  there  was  some- 
thing extremely  unpleasant  in  travelling  a  solitary  path, 
through  a  dense,  dark  wood,  in  a  section  of  country  which 
we  had  good  reason  for  believing  was  infested  by  those  who 
would  stop  at  no  crime  which  might  stand  between  them 
and  the  object  they  sought,  whatever  that  might  be. 

Some  two  hours  after  reaching  the  main  road,  we  arrived 
at  a  very  genteel  way-side  inn,  where  we  succeeded  in  pro- 
curing a  conveyance  to  the  next  village,  some  ten  miles 
distant.  Here  we  fortunately  secured  fast  horses  and  a 
guide,  which  set  us  forward  some  twenty-five  miles  in  three 
hours.     Our  next  and  last  stage  was  performed  in  a  four- 

11 


126  VIOLA. 


wheeled  vehicle.     We  crossed  the  Brazos  about  dark,  and 
an  hour  later  had  arrived  at  our  destination  for  the  day. 

We  were  now  within  three  miles  of  D'Estang  Ville;  and 
at  the  inn  where  we  put  up  for  the  night,  we  made  casual 
inquiries  about  the  surrounding  country — the  general  cha- 
racter of  the  inhabitants — and  of  course,  among  the  rest, 
did  not  neglect  to  question  concerning  him  with  whom  we 
expected  to  have  most  to  do.  What  we  gathered  of  the 
latter,  was  in  substance,  that  Captain — or,  as  he  was  here 
generally  termed.  Count  D'Estang — was  a  French  noble- 
man, of  great  wealth,  who  owned  and  worked  one  of  the 
largest  cotton  plantations  on  the  Brazos.  D'Estang  Ville, 
his  private  residence,  was  said  to  be  the  most  charming  and 
magnificent  in  all  Texas ;  and  here,  when  at  home,  for  he 
was  much  abroad,  he  lived  in  a  style  of  sumptuous 
splendor.  He  not  unfrequently  held  revels  at  his  man- 
sion ;  but  only  here  and  there  a  neighbor  attended — most 
of  the  guests  being  from  a  distance,  and  strangers  to  all 
but  the  host.  When  questioned  as  to  the  moral  character 
of  Count  D'Estang,  our  informants  shook  their  heads  sig- 
nificantly, and  said  that  there  were  strange  reports  abroad 
that  his  gains  were  not  all  honestly  come  by,  though  none 
dared  accuse  him  of  crime.  He  was  considered  a  roue ; 
and  some  hinted  that  tales  might  be  told  of  innocence 
wronged,  hopes  blasted,  and  hearts  broken — only  that  those 
who  could  speak,  had  their  lips  sealed  by  self-interest  and 
fear.  He  was  regarded  as  a  dark  man,  rich  and  powerful, 
and  more  to  be  feared  than  loved.  At  present,  rumor  was 
busy  concerning  a  new  victim,  who  had  mysteriously  ar- 
rived in  the  night,  in  a  close  carriage ;  but  further  than 
this,  no  one  knew  anything;  and  even  this  was  rather 
guessed  at,  we  found,  than  positively  known. 

Such  was  the  substance  of  what  we  learned  from  the 
citizens  of But  the  place  shall    be  nameless.     When 


SUSPICIONS   AND   CERTAINTIES.  127 

alone  with  me,  Harley  groaned  in  anguish  of  spirit,  and 
then  knit  his  brows,  and  ground  his  teeth  with  rage. 

''  Oh  !  Harry,"  he  said,  "  think  of  the  latest  victim  ! — 
who  can  it  be  but  Viola  ?  Oh  !  it  is  terrible !  terrible  1 
The  monster  fiend !  May  the  sure  justice  of  Eleaven 
speedily  overtake  him  !  One  night  more  of  miserable  sus- 
pense, and  then  to  know  the  worst ;  and  if  the  worst  has 
befallen  her — then,  in  the  presence  of  the  Omnipotent,  do 
I  consecrate  .this  life  to  avenge  her." 

I  endeavored  to  tranquilize  him,  but  for  a  long  time  in 
vain.  At  last  he  grew  calmer,  and  we  discussed  our  plana 
for  the  morrow. 

Though  greatly  fatigued,  we  slept  but  little  that  night. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


D  ESTANG   VILLE. 


It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  toward  the  close  of  Sep- 
tember, that  our  eyes  were  first  greeted  with  a  view  of 
D'Estang  Ville  ;  and  never  had  I  beheld  a  combination  of 
nature  and  art  so  superbly  charming,  so  supremely  en- 
chanting. From  our  point  of  observation,  a  very  slight 
eminence,  we  saw  a  large,  angular  mansion,  with  its  por- 
ticoes, piazzas,  colonnades,  balconies,  turrets,  roofs,  and 
chimneys,  lifting  itself  above  a  level  landscape,  in  the  cen- 
tre of  a  charming  grove,  and  surrounded  also  by  vines, 
and  flowers,  and  arbors,  and  statues,  and  sparkling  foun- 
tains, and  winding  walks,  that  led  from  sunshine  to  shade, 
and  from  shade  into  darker  recesses,  which,  from  where  we 
were,  our  gaze  could  not  penetrate.  The  mansion  itself 
stood  back  from  the  road  some  quarter  of  a  mile,  and 
could  be  approached,  in  a  direct  line,  along  a  bowery  foot- 
way, lined  with  statuary,  and  banked  with  the  rarest, 
brightest  and  sweetest  of  flowers,  whose  perfume  regaled 
the  olfactory  sense  almost  to  satiety,  and  where  all  the  ex- 
ternals, including  the  gay-plumed  warblers  fluttering  and 
singing  among  the  green  branches  overhead,  made  it  seem 
enchanted  ground — or  it  could  be  approached  by  a  carriage 
road,  scarcely  less  delightful,  which  made  a  circuit  from 
one  gate  of  the  front  enclosure  to  the  other,  a  distance  of 
nearly  a  mile.  In  the  rear  of  the  mansion  was  a  group  of 
picturesque  outbuildings,  in  the  same  fancy  style  of  archi- 
tecture, half  embowered  in  a  level  park,  that  stretched  far, 

a28) 


d'eSTANG   VILLE.  129 


far  away,  reminding  me  of  the  world-renowned  Eljsian 
Fields.  No  description  can  do  justice  to  the  scene,  as  it 
burst  upon  our  view  under  the  rich  light  of  a  morning  sun 
jhining  through  a  soft,  clear,  cloudless  atmosphere  of  ce- 
rulean blue ;  and  I  must  leave  the  reader  to  fill  out  the 
picture  with  all  he  can  imagine  of  the  beautiful,  assuring 
him  he  is  more  likely  to  fall  short  of,  than  to  exceed,  the 
reality. 

For  ten  minutes,  to  say  the  least,  we  stood  and  gazed 
upon  the  bright  landscape  before  us,  without  speaking; 
and  then  turning  to  me : 

"What  poet  could  dream  of  more?"  sighed  Harley : 
"it  ravishes  the  sight;  and  oh!  to  think  that  yonder 
lovely  retreat  is  the  present  abode  of  an  angel  and  a 
devil !" 

"Had  Eden  been  more  than  this,  methinks  our  first 
parents  could  not  have  survived  the  loss,"  returned  I. 

"  With  that  and  Viola,  my  Heaven  would  begin  on 
earth,"  said  Harley. 

"  With  that  and  Clara,  amen  !"  thought  I 

"  Come,"  pursued  Harley,  "  while  we  stand  idly  here, 
we  accomplish  nothing.  You  know  my  plan — so  let  ua 
forward." 

"  I  fear  you  will  find  it  less  easy  to  execute  than  you 
thought,"  I  rejoined ;  "  but  I  am  yours  to  command." 

As  we  were  about  to  descend  to  the  road,  which  ran 
along  before  us  at  the  distance  of  a  hundred  yards  or  so, 
our  attention  was  arrested  by  the  appearance  of  a  horse- 
man, who  suddenly  emerged  from  among  the  trees  near  the 
mansion,  and  advanced  along  the  graveled  path  toward  one 
of  the  gates  at  an  easy  canter.  We  stopped  to  note  his 
movements,  and  as  he  drew  nearer, 

"  How  is  it,  Harry — do  my  eyes  deceive  me — or  is  that 
D'Estang  himself?"  said  Harley. 


130  VIOLA. 


"  I  would  not  be  positive  at  this  distance,"  I  replied. 
*<but  I  think  it  is  the  Count." 

"  If  it  is  he,  and  he  about  to  leave,  in  so  much  are  we 
fortunate,"  replied  my  friend. 

The  horseman  rode  down  to  the  gate  ;  and  after  passing 
a  few  words  with  the  porter,  who  gave  him  exit,  he  dashed 
away,  and  soon  was  out  of  sight. 

*'  Come,  Harry,  now  is  our  time." 

We  took  a  short  circuit,  and  came  round  to  the  gate 
through  which  the  horseman  had  passed,  with  our  boxes 
slung  under  our  arms,  in  the  most  approved  mode  of 
pedestrian  itineracy.  As  to  Tom,  by-the-way,  we  had 
thought  it  advisable  to  leave  him  behind  us  at  our  last 
stopping  place. 

A  strong  wall  of  masonry,  about  ten  feet  in  height, 
enclosed  the  grounds  of  D'Estang  Ville  on  every  side; 
and  this  wall,  where  it  fronted  on  the  road,  had  three 
gates,  with  a  porter's  lodge  and  tower  to  each,  in  which  as 
regular  a  watch  was  kept  as  if  it  were  a  fortified  place. 
Without  permission  of  some  one  of  these  sentries,  there- 
fore, no  one  could  enter  or  leave  the  grounds ;  and  to  get 
this  permit,  as  mere  strolling  peddlers,  we  feared  might  be 
no  easy  matter. 

"  Money  is  the  Archimedean  lever  of  the  present 
century,"  said  Harley,  as  we  discussed  the  matter  on  our 
way  thither ;  "  and  with  a  foothold  by  yon  gate,  we  will 
test  its  power." 

The  porter,  Harley  at  once  perceived,  was  a  Frenchman ; 
and  he  addressed  him  very  politely,  asking  permission  for 
us  to  enter  and  ofier  our  wares  for  sale  to  such  as  we 
might  find  within,  either  lord  or  dependant. 

"  His  lordship  has  just  ridden  away,"  replied  the  man, 
"  and  it  is  against  the  rules  to  admit  strangers  during  his 
ab!=rTico." 


d'estang  ville.  131 


"  How  long  will  his  lordship  be  away  ?"  inquired  my 
friend. 

'*  Till  to-morrow  morning,  doubtless." 

"  Well,  can  you  not  give  us  a  chance  to  turn  an  honest 
penny  ?" 

''  I  would  like  to  oblige — but — " 

"Here,"  interrupted  Harley,  reaching  a  gold  coin 
through  the  wicket — "  say  no  more,  my  good  fellow,  but 
let  us  pass." 

The  man  hesitated,  looked  at  the  coin  wistfully,  rubbed 
his  chin  thoughtfully,  and  finally  said,  as  his  fingers  closed 
upon  it : 

"  Well,  to  oblige  you,  I  will  let  you  in  ;  but  do  not  stay 
too  long — for  should  his  lordship  return  and  find  you  here, 
I  fear  it  would  be  the  worse  for  all  of  us." 

"  Oh,  we  will  not  remain  longer  than  is  necessary  for 
our  purpose,"  replied  Harley,  blandly,  as  we  passed  through 
the  gate,  and  set  off  for  the  mansion.  "  How  fortunate  for 
us,"  he  added  to  me,  when  out  of  ear-shot  of  the  porter, 
*'  that  the  Count  is  away  !  Ah  !  Harry — fate  !  fate  !  it 
favors  us  still." 

"  But  should  the  Count  unexpectedly  return  ?"  I  sug- 
gested. 

"  Ah  !  should  he,  Harry — should  he — there  is  no  telling 
what  might  be  the  consequences.  But  we  will  hope  for  the 
best,  Harry,  and  we  must  improve  our  time.  If  Viola  is 
within  that  mansion^  I  must  see  her  ;  and  oh  I  the  very 
thought  of  accomplishing  my  purpose,  makes  me  tremble  ! 
I  feel  we  are  playing  a  bold,  desperate  game — ^but  then 
look  at  the  stakes !  If  I  win,  happiness  and  life — if  I 
lose,  misery  and  perchance  death.  Harry,  (and  Harley 
grasped  my  hand,)  you  will  stand  by  me,  let  what  will 
happen  ?" 

*^To  the  death,  Morton." 


132  VIOLA. 


His  fingers  closed  upon  mine  like  a  vice. 

"  Thank  you  !  thank  you  !"  he  said,  hurriedly,  brushing 
away  a  tear.  ''You  are  indeed  a  true  friend,  and  I  bless 
the  hour  that  brought  us  together.  I  may  be  compelled  to 
try  you  to  the  full  extent  of  your  generous  offer — though  1 
hope  not — I  pray  not.  Oh  !  Harry,  you  do  not  know  my 
feelings  at  this  moment — you  cannot  realize  the  awful  con- 
flict going  on  in  my  breast,  between  hope  and  fear.  But  I 
must  see  Viola ;  and  if  beneath  yonder  roof  I  will,  or  they 
shall  bear  me  hence  a  corpse.  Fail !  fail  !  oh  !  I  must  not 
fail ! — we  must  not  fail,  Harry  ! — oh  !  great  Heaven  grant 
we  do  not  fail !" 

Under  any  other  circumstances,  we  could  not  have 
passed  through  those  beautiful  grounds,  without  stopping  to 
admire  the  green,  shady,  cooling  groves — the  bright  beds  of 
flowers — the  pellucid  fountains,  sending  up  jets  of  silver  in 
the  sunshine — the  life-like  statuary — and  the  natural 
melody  of  a  thousand  feathered  warblers — the  whole  form- 
ing a  scene  of  beauty  and  enchantment  rivalled  only  by 
the  magnificent  homes  of  foreign  nobility;  but  now  we  had 
other  matters  to  occupy  our  thoughts,  and  w^e  only  paid 
them  the  tribute  of  a  passing  glance. 

At  length  we  reached  a  vine-covered  portico,  and 
beheld,  through  the  open  door,  a  lofty,  magnificent 
hall,  hung  round  with  paintings,  aud  furnished  in  a  man- 
ner at  once  unique,  sombre,  and  grand.  Harley  rang 
the  bell ;  and  immediately  a  French  porter  appeared, 
dressed  in  livery,  who,  with  an  air  of  surprise,  eyed  us  from 
head  to  foot. 

*'  We  have  called  to  show  the  lady  of  this  beautiful 
mansion  some  very  fine  jewelry,"  said  Harley,  tapping  his 
box,  and  touching  his  hat  with  an  air  of  respect. 

"  How  do  you  know  there  is  a  lady  to  show  your  wares 
to  ?"  returned  the  man,  with  a  self-important  air. 


d'estang  ville.  133 


**  Oh,  I  take  it  for  granted  that  such  a  palace  as  this  is 
lot  "without  its  queen.  Come,  come — do  not  be  too  hard 
on  us  poor  fellows.;  we  must  live,  you  know,  as  well  as 
others.  There,  now,  I  see  a  kindly  look  in  your  handsome 
face,  and  I  know  you  will  procure  us  an  interview  with  your 
mistress." 

"You  are  out  there,  my  jolly  tinkers,"  replied  the  man, 
good-humoredly,  for  he  was  very  susceptible  of  flattery. 
"You  are  out  there,  now,  about  my  mistress." 

"How  so?" 

"Because  I  have  none." 

"  Ha  !  no  mistress  ?" 

"Not  yet." 

"  Not  yet  ?     Ah  I  that  implies  you  are  about  to  have  ?" 

"  Well,  one  cannot  say  what  may  happen  in  that  way, 
with  a  good-looking-master." 

"Very  true.  So,  then,  there  is  no  lady  within  the 
mansion  ?" 

"I  didn't  say  that,"  replied  the  porter,  with  a  peculiar 
smile,  that  made  the  heart  of  Harley  beat  violently — 
though  he  mastered  himself,  so  as  outwardly  to  appear 
calm  and  almost  indiflferent :  "  I  didn't  say  there  was  no 
lady  within  ;  I  only  said  I  had  no  mistress." 

"Yes,  I  see!  good  joke !  capital!  ha,  ha,  ha!"  re- 
joined Harley,  affecting  to  perceive  no  small  amount  of 
wit  in  the  other's  remark,  which  tended  not  a  little  to  in- 
crease the  man's  favorable  opinion  of  ourselves.  "  Well, 
come,  now,"  pursued  Harley,  "  can  you  not  procure  us  an 
interview  with  this  lady  ? — doubtless  she  would  like  some* 
thing  in  our  line." 

"  Rather  difficult  to  do,  I'm  afraid,"  answered  the  other. 

"  Oh,  give  me  you  for  difficult  undertakings — especially 
"when  a  lady  is  concerned — I  can  see  it  in  your  eye," 
laughed  Harley.     "  Come,  try  now,  my  good  fellow,  and 
9 


134  VIOLA. 


here  is  a  trifle  to  compensate  you  for  your  trouble ;"  and 
Bay  friend  slipped  a  half-dollar  into  the  porter's  hand. 

"  I  see  you  understand  your  business,"  smiled  the  other. 
*'  Well,  I  will  do  my  best  for  you.  I  will  see  Mistress 
Anne,  who  has  charge  of  the  lady.  Walk  in,  and  amuse 
yourselves  with  the  paintings  and  curiosities  here,  if  you 
like,  till  I  return." 

"  Thank  you !  we  will  do  so,"  returned  Harley  ;  and 
the  porter  departed,  leaving  us  to  ourselves. 

Under  different  circumstances,  we  might  have  spent  a 
day,  agreeably,  in  gazing  upon  the  works  of  art  which  that 
magnificent  hall  contained ;  but  now  we  scarcely  bestowed 
Mpon  them  a  single  glance. 

"Do  you  think  the  lady  in  question  is  Viola?"  I 
whispered. 

"My  heart  tells  me  so,"  was  the  reply. 

After  a  painful  suspense  of  some  five  or  ten  minutes,  the 
porter  reappeared. 

"Well?"  said  Harley. 

"  I  saw  Mistress  Anne — but  she  is  in  a  bad  humor  and 
I  could  do  nothing  with  her,"  replied  the  porter 

"  What  did  she  say  ?" 

"  Why,"  answered  the  other,  hesitating,  "  when  I  told 
her  your  business,  she  said — but  you  musn't  get  offended 
now !" 

"  Go  on !" 

"  Why,  she  said  the  young  lady  was  not  a  going  to  be 
disturbed  with  any  such  strolling  vagabonds  as  peddlers." 

"  Umph !  she  is  complimentary,  certainly,"  said  Har- 
ley.    "  So  the  lady  herself  is  young,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  so  beautiful !" 

"  And  had  she  nothing  to  say  in  the  matter?" 

"  I  didn't  see  her ;  we  are  not  allowed :  all  business  with 
ber  must  pass  through  Mistress  Anne." 


DESTANG  VILLE.  135 

*'  Ah,  indeed !  Well,  and  who  is  this  lady  you  speak  of 
that  is  so  beautiful — what  is  her  name  ?"  inquired  my 
friend,  carelessly. 

"Why,  that's  more  than  I  can  say,"  answered  the 
porter,  looking  round  him  mysteriously ;  "  though  I  have 
heard,"  he  added,  in  a  low  tone,  "  that  she  is  soon  to  be- 
come the  wife  of  his  lordship." 

"  Aha  !  so-so  !     How  long  has  she  been  here  ?" 

"  Only  two  or  three  days ;  but  not  a  word  of  this  to 
any  one,  or  I  may  lose  my  ears." 

"  Ha  !  it  is  a  secret,  then  ?" 

*'  Yes,  my  lord  wouldn't  have  it  known  ;  in  fact,  he  don't 
like  to  have  anything  concerning  any  of  his  affairs  known ; 
very  secret  in  everything  is  his  lordship." 

"Did  the  lady  come  here  by  herself?" 

"  Oh,  no  :  her  father  came  with  her,  I  believe.' 

"  Is  he  here  now  ?"         • 

"  Can't  say — have  never  seen  him  but  twice,  and  the  last 
time  was  the  day  after  they  arrived." 

"  But  you  have  seen  the  lady  ?" 

"  Once — only  once.  I  stood  in  the  hall  as  she  passed 
through,  leaning  on  a  strange  gentleman's  arm,  that  I've 
since  heard  was  her  father.  Her  veil  was  a  little  aside, 
and  I  had  a  glimpse  of  her  face." 

"  And  have  you  only  seen  her  that  once  ?" 

"  Only  that  once." 

"How  is  that?" 

"  She  doesn't  leave  her  apartments,  and  we  gentlemen 
are  not  allowed  to  enter  there." 

*'Is  she  a  prisoner  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  porter,  again  looking  cau 
tiously  round  ;  "  but  some  of  us  think  that  may-be  she's 
refractory,  and  that  his  lordship  is  taming  her." 

"Oho!   I  see !"    returned   Harley,  with   a  significant 


loG  VIOLA. 


smile.  "  Well,  I  wish  we  could  see  her — perhaps  we  could 
prevail  upon  her  to  trade  with  us — she  may  like  our  wares 
to  amuse  herself  with." 

"  Well,  the  thing  can't  be  done  without  the  consent  of 
Mistress  Anne,  and  that  I'm  satisfied  I  can't  obtain." 

"And  could  we  not  see  Mistress  Anne,  whoever  she  is?" 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Harley,  slipping  another  silver  coin 
into  the  hands  of  the  porter, — "  pray  procure  us  an  inter- 
view with  Mistress  Anne." 

"  Follow  me,  then,"  returned  the  latter. 

He  led  the  way  to  a  broad  flight  of  winding  stairs, 
which  we  ascended  to  the  second  story,  when,  turning  to 
the  right,  we  entered  a  narrow  corridor,  which  meandered 
through  the  mansion,  and  conducted  us  to  a  sort  of  tower, 
which  was  connected  with  the  main  building  by  a  narrow 
bridge  that  passed  over  a  portion  of  an  inner  court.  This 
tower,  as  for  convenience  I  shall  term  it,  stood  in  the  cen- 
tre of  a  grass-plot — which  was  itself  completely  sur- 
rounded by  the  main  buildings  of  the  Ville — and  could 
only  be  entered,  apparently,  by  means  of  the  bridge, 
which  could  be  raised  by  machinery  at  the  pleasure  of  the 
owner — so  that  a  person  confined  therein,  could  be  made 
almost  as  safe  a  prisoner,  as  in  the  castle-towers  of  the 
olden  time.  I  say  this  tower  could  only  apparently  be 
entered  and  left  by  the  bridge  in  question — for  there  was 
in  reality  a  secret  passage  under  ground,  which  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  refer  to  hereafter.  There  were  no  win- 
dows in  this  tower  below  the  second  story ;  and  these,  and 
those  of  the  third  story — for  it  was  three  stories  in  height 
—were  long  and  narrow,  resembling  those  I  have  seen  in 
a  State's  prison. 

After  crossing  the  draw-bridge,  we  entered  a  circular 
apartment,  furnished  in  a  style  of  magnificence   I  have 


d'estang  ville.  137 

seldom  seen  equaled.  A  rich  Turkey  carpet  covered  the 
floor,  on  which  stood  sofas,  ottomans,  and  centre-tables, 
loaded  with  books  and  shells,  and  the  walls  were  adorned 
with  full-length  mirrors  and  exquisite  paintings.  Here, 
on  a  sofa,  with  a  book  in  her  hand,  sat  Mistress  Anne,  as 
she  was  termed,  bedecked  with  more  finery,  in  the  way  cf 
silks  and  jewelry,  than  was  in  good  taste.  Her  hair  and 
eyes  were  very  black,  and  the  latter  shrewd  and  piercing 
in  expression.  She  was  apparently  about  twenty  years 
of  age,  and  many  would  term  her  beautiful ;  but  her  fea- 
tures were  too  narrow  and  pointed,  her  lips  too  thin  and 
compressed,  her  skin  too  pale,  save  where  art  had  bestowed 
a  color,  to  come  up  to  my  standard  of  female  beauty. 

On  our  entrance,  she  looked  up  in  surprise,  threw  down 
her  book,  rose  from  her  seat,  and  advancing  to  us  with  a 
hasty  step,  exclaimed,  in  a  quick,  sharp,  angry  tone : 

"What  means  this  intrusion  of  strangers?" 

"Ah,  Mistress  Anne,"  said  the  porter,  coaxingly, 
"these  are  the  peddlers  I  was  speaking  to  you  about." 

"  Well,  did  I  not  tell  you  the  young  lady  would  see  no 
such  strolling  vagabonds  ?"  she  indignantly  and  scornfully 
rejoined,  turning  sharply  upon  our  conductor,  her  eyes 
flashing  fire. 

"  But  they  asked  to  see  you,  and  I  could  hardly  do  less 
than  grant  them  that  happiness,"  replied  the  other,  with 
a  sort  of  covert  irony. 

"  And  did  your  master  tell  you  to  do  this  ?"  she  de- 
manded, almost  fiercely,  crossing  her  arms  on  her  breast, 
and  bestowing  upon  the  porter  a  withering  look. 

"No,  his  lordship  didn't,  but  politeness  did,"  returned 
the  other. 

"  And  think  you,  Pierre,  politeness  will  save  you  from 
his  lordship's  anger  ?"  she  cried,  with  a  contemptuous 
curl  of  her  thin  lips. 

12 


138  VIOLA. 


"  But  surely,  Mistress  Anne,  you  will  not  inform  on 
tne  !"  said  Pierre,  beginning  to  grow  alarmed  for  the  first 
time 

"  Won't  I,  though  ?"  she  rejoined  ;  ^'  wait  till  he  comes, 
and  see." 

"Ah,  Mistress  Anne,  now  surely  I  meant  no  harm," 
pleaded  the  other,  turning  pale. 

''  You  meant  no  good,  I'll  be  bound.  This  is  not  the 
first  time  you  have  been  remiss  in  your  duty ;  and  come 
w^hat  will  of  it,  his  lordship  shall  know  of  it.  What ! 
force  a  couple  of  strolling  vagabonds  upon  my  privacy, 
without  my  leave !  I  am  astonished  at  your  audacity. 
Go  !  get  you  hence  !  and  take  these  fellows  with  you — or 
you  shall  learn,  and  that  quickly,  what  it  is  to  brave  my 
displeasure ;"  and  she  drew  herself  up  with  queenly 
haughtiness. 

"  Say  what  you  will  of  us,  fair  lady,"  interposed  Harley, 
in  a  bland  tone — "  but  do  not  be  too  hard  on  Pierre,  who 
is  far  less  to  blame  than  we." 

"  But  he  had  no  business  to  bring  you  here  without  my 
consent,"  said  the  indignant  damsel,  turning  to  my  friend, 
and  speaking  in  a  modified  tone. 

*'He  may  have  done  wrong  in  that,  fair  lady,"  replied 
Harley,  in  the  same  bland,  respectful  manner;  "but  we 
were  so  anxious  to  see  you,  that  we  hardly  gave  him  a 
choice." 

"Well,  now  that  you  do  see  me,  pray  state  your 
business !"  returned  the  other,  in  a  tone  greatly  softened, 
showing  that  the  flattering  term  of  "fair  lady,"  so  cleverly 
introduced,  was  not  without  its  effect  upon  one  as  vain  as 
she  was  arrogant. 

"  I  would  prefer  siating  my  business  to  you  alone,  fair 
damsel,"  rejoined  Harley,  glancing  significantly  at  the 
porter. 


d'estang  ville.  139 


"You  may  go,  Pierre,"  she  said,  with  a  courtly  wave  of 
ber  white  arm  and  hand. 

"  But,  Mistress  Anne,  you  will  not  tell  his  lordship  V* 
returned  Pierre,  hesitating. 

"No — in  compliment  to  these  gentlemen,  I  will  over- 
look this  offence,"  she  answered,  graciously.    "  There  !  go  !" 

As  the  porter  went  out.  Mistress  Anne  threw  herself 
upon  a  sofa,  with  an  air,  saying : 

"  Seats,  gentlemen." 

"  I  see  Pierre  has  left  the  door  slightly  ajar,"  said 
Harley ;  *'  and  with  your  kind  permission,  ma'm'selle,  I 
will  close  it." 

"  Certainly ;"  and  Anne  bowed  a  gracious  acquiescence. 

The  key  was  in  the  lock  ;  and,  by  a  dexterous  move- 
ment, Harley  shot  the  bolt  and  withdrew  it,  without  being 
perceived  by  Anne. 

She  was  a  prisoner  without  knowing  it. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


MISTRESS   ANNE. 


"  The  truth  is,"  resumed  Harley,  seating  himself  near 
the  damsel,  "we  have  some  very  fine  jewelry  in  our 
boxes ;  and  learning  from  Pierre  that  there  is  a  young  and 
beautiful  lady  within  the  mansion,  who  is  about  to  become 
the  wife  of  his  lordship,  we  felt  a  great  desire  to  see  her,  and 
lay  before  her  our  fine  assortment  of  gold  and  diamonds." 

"And  is  this  your  business  with  me?"  cried  Anne,  her 
pale  features  again  flushing,  and  her  black  eyes  fla?hing. 

"  Pray  do  not  get  angry,  ma'm'selle ;  we  are  not  the  per- 
sons to  forget  what  is  due  to  one  in  your  station," 
pursued  Harley.  "  If  we  see  the  lady  herself,  it  will  be 
through  the  kindness  of  one  who  has  no  reason,  perhaps, 
to  be  envious  of  her  beauty  ;  and  for  this  kindness,  we  shall 
pray  you  to  accept  a  slight  token  of  our  regard."  While 
speaking,  Harley  opened  his  box,  and  selecting  a  gold  ring 
of  exquisite  workmanship,  and  presenting  it  to  Anne, 
continued :  "  Pray  honor  us  by  placing  this  on  your  beau- 
tiful finger." 

Anne  took  the  ring,  and  fixing  her  eyes  on  it,  and  turn 
ing  it  over  and  over,  said,  in  pursuance  of  her  thoughts  as 
it  were : 

"  And  so  that  gossiping  porter  told  you  this  lady,  whom 
I  condescend  to  wait  upon,  just  to  please  my  lord,  is  about 
to  become  his  lordship's  wife  ?" 

"  He  either  said  or  intimated  as  much,  ma'm'selle — or, 
at  all  events,  I  inferred  that  from  what  he  did  say." 
(140) 


MISTRESS  ANNE.  141 


"Pierre  is  a  fool!"  cried  Mistress  Anne,  indignantly, 
stamping  her  little  foot  upon  the  soft  carpet.  "  A  fool ! 
a  gossiping  fool !  that  he  is ;  and  this  meddling  with  affairs 
that  do  not  concern  him,  will  cost  him  dear,  or  I  know  not 
Count  D'Estang." 

"But  I  beg  you  will  not  get  him  into  trouble  on  our 
account,"  returned  Harley,  soothingly.  "  I  assure  you 
that  what  he  said  to  us,  will  go  no  further ;  and  whether 
true  or  not,  I  can  see  no  harm  in  his  lordship's  wishing  to 
be  wedded  to  a  suitable  personage." 

"But  I  can,"  cried  Anne,  starting  to  her  feet,  and 
beginning  to  pace  the  room  with  hurried  steps.  "  But  I 
can  see  harm  in  it ;"  and  her  eyes  displayed  a  glare  of 
fierceness  that  denoted  the  workings  of  a  dark,  vindictive 
spirit.  "Besides,"  she  continued,  "this  girl  is  wo^  a  fit 
C'!ri<ort  for  his  lordship  ;  and  by  all  the  powers  that  be, 
good  or  evil,  he  shall  never  wed  her  !"  and  the  words  rang 
out  with  a  wild,  startling  vehemence. 

"Who  will  prevent  it?"  ventured  Harley. 

"I  will !"  cried  Anne,  suddenly  confronting  my  friend  ; 
"do  you  doubt  it?" 

"  Why  should  I  ?"  he  answered,  evasively.  "  But  come  ! 
tell  us  more  of  your  mistress." 

"  She  is  not  my  mistress — the  proud,  scornful  upstart — 
nor  shall  she  ever  be." 

"  Then  she  is  proud  and  scornful?" 

"  Ay ;  but  I  will  humble  her  ;  she  had  better  not  put  on 
too  many  airs  with  me." 

"  And  does  she  fancy  his  lordship  ?" 

''  Who  cares  whether  she  does  or  not  ?  what  is  that  to 
you?" 

"  Oh,  I  merely  asked  the  question,  as  our  conversation 
led  to  it." 

"Our  conversation  has  led  too  far,"  returned  Anne, 
12* 


142  VIOLA. 


coldly,  the  idea  apparently  striking  her  that  she  had  heen 
too  communicative  to  utter  strangers.  "  I  should  not  have 
said  so  much,"  she  pursued;  "but  I  forgot  myself." 

"  Well,  since  you  have  said  so  much,  suppose  you  go  on 
and  give  us  the  whole  story,"  suggested  Harley. 

"  Umph !  that  you  may  retail  the  gossip  as  you  do  your 
•wares." 

"  No,  upon  my  honor,  if  you  will  state  the  whole  case  to 
me,  I  will  tell  you  how  best  you  may  rid  yourself  of  this 
lady — since  I  see,  from  your  remarks,  that  such  is  your 
desire." 

"And  who  are  you,  that  are  so  ready  to  interfere  in 
other  people's  affairs  ?"  said  Anne,  a  slight  shade  of 
suspicion  apparently  crossing  her  mind,  that  we  might  be 
other  than  we  seemed. 

"  Do  you  not  see  who  we  are  ?"  returned  Harley, 
pointing  to  our  boxes. 

"  I  see  what  you  profess  to  be ;  but  why  do  you  take  bo 
much  interest  in  this  matter  ?" 

"  Could  we  do  otherwise,  after  what  you  have  said?" 

"  I  see — I  have  said  too  much." 

"But  cannot  unsay  it  now,  ma'm'selle." 

"Heavens!"  exclaimed  Anne,  in  some  trepidation; 
"  perhaps  you  are  friends  of  his  lordship  !" 

Harley  saw  he  had  gained  an  advantage  over  the  girl, 
through  her  own  suspicions  and  imprudent  admissions,  and 
he  determined  on  making  the  most  of  it,  by  working  on 
her  fears. 

"Well,  whatever  we  are,"  he  answered,  "one  thing  is 
certain — you  are  in  our  power." 

"  Heavens  !  what  have  I  done  ?"  cried  the  damsel,  si;ak- 
ing  upon  a  seat,  pale  and  trembling. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  you  have  done,"  returned  Harley, 


MISTRESS   ANNE.  143 


Sternly;  "you  have  spoken  words  that,  if  reported  to  his 
Iciship,  may  cost  you  dear." 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?"  gasped  Anne. 

"  We  do." 

*•  Oh !  mercy  on  me  !  then  I  am  ruined." 

"  That  depends  upon  how  you  conduct  yourself  hereafter." 

"  Who  are  you  ?" 

"Do  you  not  see?" 

"But  you  are  not  what  you  seem  !* 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  you." 

"  Oh  !  gracious  Heaven  !  what  shall  I  do  !" 

"  First  tell  us  all  you  know  of  this  lady,  and  what  treat- 
ment she  has  received  at  your  hands." 

"Do  you  know  her,  too*^" 

"  I  can  answer  best  when  I  have  heard  the  name." 

"  Oh,  gentlemen,  if  you  are  i  eally  friends  of  his  lord- 
ship, promise  not  to  get  me  into  trouble  !" 

"  I  will  only  promise,  that  if  you  do  not  answer  my 
questions,  it  shall  be  the  worse  for  you.  Come !  give  us 
this  lady's  name  !" 

"  I  only  know  her  as  Ma'm'selle  Yiola,"  replied  the  now 
really  frightened  damsel ;  "  but  oh  !  gentlemen — " 

"Hush!"  interrupted  Harley,  sternly  —  "and  confine 
yourself  to  straightforward  answers !  How  came  she 
here  ?" 

"  She  was  brought  here  by  his  lordship.  But  if  you  were 
sent  by  him,  you  knew  this  before." 

"  No  matter  what  we  know,  but  mind  you  give  direct 
answers.    Did  she  come  here  alone  with  Count  D'Estang  ?" 

"  No,  a  gentleman  came  with  her,  that  I  have  heard  was 
her  father." 

"Where  is  he  now  ?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"Nay,  speak  the  truth!" 


144  VIOLA. 


"  Upon  my  soul,  I  do  not  know !  I  have  not  seen  him 
since  the  morning  after." 

''  Well,  why  is  this  lady  kept  within  this  tower,  and  not 
allowed  to  leave  ?" 

"  My  lord  so  commanded — and  who  dare  disobey  him  ?" 

"  And  you,  I  suppose,  are  her  keeper  ?" 

"  I  am  forbidden  to  let  her  leave  her  apartment." 

"  And  where  is  that  ?" 

"Overhead." 

"  And  does  the  Count  really  intend  to  marry  her  ?" 

"So  he  says." 

"  Well,  has  she  consented  to  wed  the  Count  ?" 

"No,  and  that  is  why  she  is  confined — he  has  told  her 
she  shall  only  go  forth  as  his  bride." 

"But  you  say  she  shall  never  wed  him  !" 

"  Ah  !  sir,  I  was  only  jesting  ;  how  could  a  poor  girl  like 
me  oppose  so  powerful  a  gentleman  as  my  lord?" 

"  Girl !"  said  Harley,  sternly,  fixing  his  keen  eyes 
searchingly  upon  her — "you  have  been  meditating  harm 
to  this  lady!" 

Anne  shrank  back,  terrified. 

"  Oh !  sir—" 

"  The  truth  !"  interrupted  Harley — "  and  nothing  but 
the  truth  !" 

"  Oh !  sir,  how  could  you  for  a  moment  think  that  I — " 

"  The  truth,  I  say  !"  stamped  Harley.  "I  tell  you,  girl, 
you  have  meditated  harm  to  her ! — perhaps  you  have 
thought  to  poison  her !" 

Anne  uttered  a  faint  cry  of  terror,  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

"  Confess  the  fact !"  pursued  Harley:  "  It  will  be  better 
for  you,  I  assure  you  !" 

"  I  could  not  bear  that  she  should  wed  the  Count,"  sob- 
bed Anne. 


MISTRESS   ANNE.  145 


"  And  why  ?  what  is  it  to  you  whom  she  weds  V* 

"  I  care  not  whom  she  weds,  so  it  is  not  my  lord." 

"  And  why  do  you  object  to  him  ?" 

"Because  I  love  him  !"  cried  Anne,  hysterically. 

"And  so  you  have  looked  to  become  mistress  cf  D'Es- 
tang  Ville  yourself,  eh  ?" 

"  I  have  been  mistress — I  was  mistress  till  she  came," 
cried  the  other,  with  a  passionate  burst. 

*'  And  so  you  have  aspired  to  be  the  wife  of  his  lord- 
ship ?" 

"  He  promised  me  I  should  be,"  pursued  the  excited 
damsel ;  "  and  why  has  he  broken  his  promise  ?" 

"  Come,  come — softly,  now — calm  yourself." 

"  Calm  myself !"  echoed  Anne,  looking  up  with  a  strange, 
wild,  peculiar  expression:  "yes,  I  will  calm  myself — in  the 
grave.*' 

"What  mean  you  by  those  words  ?" 

"  Do  you  think  I'll  live  disgraced,  and  out  of  favor  with 
my  lord?  No!  never!  never!"  she  cried,  with  wild  ve- 
hemence. "  I  have  told  so  much,  I  will  now  tell  all,"  she 
continued.  "  I  did  intend  to  kill  this  lady,  if  she  con- 
sented to  wed  my  lord,  and  then  myself.  My  plan  was  well 
laid ;  and  here  (producing  a  small  vial)  I  have  a  poison,  as 
quick  as  lightning  in  its  operations.  Since  I  am  detected 
through  my  own  foolishness,  I  will  not  live  disgraced  and 
degraded  both.  Sir  !  Count  D'Estang  deceived  me  with 
false  promises  —  but,  notwithstanding,  I  have  ever  loved 
him  ;  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  do  so  still.  Tell  him 
this  ;  and  say  I  died  with  his  name  upon  my  tongue,  bless- 
ing him  in  my  heart." 

As  she  ceased  speakirg,  she  raised  the  vial  to  her  lips; 
but  with  a  cry  of  horror,  Harley  sprung  forward,  just  in 
time  to  dash  it  to  the  ground.  The  next  moment  a  dagger, 
hitherto  concealed,  was  gleaming  in  her  hand,  and  would 


146  VIOLA. 


instantly  have  been  buried  in  her  heart — for  Harley's  eyea 
had  followed  the  vial,  and  were  not  observing  her — had  I 
not  rushed  forward  and  caught  the  uplifted  arm.  She 
struggled  violently  to  free  herself;  but  I  succeeded  in 
wrenching  the  weapon  from  her  grasp,  when  she  sunk  back 
hysterically  upon  the  sofa. 

"  Calm  yourself,  lady,"  I  said ;  "we  will  do  you  no  harm ; 
you  mistake  us  and  our  purpose." 

She  glared  upon  me  fiercely,  exclaiming : 

"  You  triumph  now ;  but  I  warn  you  I  will  find  a  way  to 
put  an  end  to  myself  before  his  lordship  returns ;  you  shall 
not  drag  me  living  before  him." 

"You  mistake  us,"  we  both  said  in  the  same  breath. 
"  We  are  not  spies  upon  you,"  I  continued.  "  Our  pur- 
pose here  is  to  liberate  this  lady  ;  and  if  you  will  assist  us, 
his  lordship  shall  know  of  nothing  that  has  passed  between 
us." 

"  Are  you  friends  of  Ma'm'selle  Viola  ?  and  were  you 
not  sent  here  by  his  lordship?"  she  cried,  eagerly. 

"  We  are  friends  of  Ma'm'selle  Viola,  and  were  not  sent 
hither  by  his  lordship,"  we  both  hastened  to  assure  her. 

"  Oh,  thanks  !"  she  cried  :  "  thanks  !  double  thanks  for 
this  news,  and  the  saving  of  my  life !" 

"  Will  you  assist  us  to  liberate  Viola,  ere  his  lordship 
returns  ?"  inquired  Harley. 

"  I  will  do  what  I  can ;  but  I  fear  it  cannot  be  done," 
she  answered. 

"  Will  you  follow  our  directions  in  everything  ?"  pursued 
Harley. 

"  So  they  do  not  lead  to  exposing  me  to  the  Count,  I 
will,"  she  replied. 

"Swear  it!" 

"  As  I  hope  for  the  favor  of  my  lord,  and  one  moment's 


MISTRESS  ANNE:  147 


happiness  in  this   world  or  the  next,  I  swear !"  she  said, 
solemnly. 

"  Enough  !  now  tell  us  how  many  servants  there  are  about 
the  mansion  V" 

"Ten  here  at  present." 

"  I  have  seen  only  the  porter — how  is  that 

"  They  are  probably  out  in  the  park,  or  in  the  rear  build- 
ings," she  answered. 

"Perhaps  we  have  been  overheard?"  suggested  Harley, 
a  new  thought  striking  him. 

Anne  cast  her  eyes  hurriedly  around  the  circular  apart- 
ment, to  the  four  narrow  windows  which  were  placed  in  the 
four  points  of  compass,  and  rejoined : 

"No,  fortunately,  the  windows  were  all  closed — and  the 
door  being  shut,  nothing  short  of  a  scream  could  reach  the 
ear  of  any  without." 

"  'Tis  well ;  then  you  only  know  our  secret ;  and  with 
your  assistance,  if  uninterrupted,  we  may  accomplish  won- 
ders in  a  very  short  time.     Viola,  you  say,  is  above  us  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Can  she  have  heard  anything  that  has  passed  between 
us?" 

"  No,"  replied  Anne  ;  "  for  these  apartments  are  so  con- 
structed, that  sound  will  not  pass  from  one  to  the  other." 

"  And  for  what  purpose  was  this   tower  built  ?"  I  in 
quired. 

"That  I  do  not  know,"  answered  the  damsel.  "It  has 
an  observatory  on  the  top ;  and  his  lordship,  who  is  a  gen- 
tleman of  science,  often  amuses  himself  there,  at  night, 
looking  at  the  heavens." 

"  Is  there  any  way  to  leave  this  tower  save  by  the 
bridge  ?"  inquired  Harley. 

"  I  believe  there  is  one  other  way — but  it  is  a  secret 
only  known  to  his  lordship,"  replied  the  girl. 


148  VIOLA. 


"That  other  way  we  must  discover,"  said  Harley, 
glancing  round  the  apartment.  "  But  first  we  must  see 
VJola.     Show  us  the  way  to  her  chamber,  Anne  I" 

The  damsel  advanced  to  a  large  painting,  that  came 
down  near  the  ground,  touched  a  Secret  spring,  when  it 
swung  slowly  back,  disclosing  a  kind  of  closet,  with  steep, 
narrow,  winding  stairs  leading  to  the  story  above.  Harley 
pressed  my  arm,  made  a  significant  gesture,  and  said 
iloud : 

"  On  further  reflection,  you  shall  go  first,  Harry,  and 
explain  all  to  her — for  should  she  recognise  me  suddenly, 
St  might  overcome  her.  I  will  remain  here  with  this  lady 
lill  you  return." 

I  knew  Harley  less  feared  a  recognition — for  he  was 
etill  disguised,  in  the  manner  previously  described  to  the 
reader — than  that  the  girl  might  change  her  mind,  if  left 
to  herself,  and  manage  some  way  to  secure  us  in  a  trap ; 
but  I  replied,  carelessly  : 

"  Ah,  perhaps  it  would  be  better,  for  me  she  has  never 
seen." 

"When  you  reach  the  top  stair,"  said  Anne,  who  made 
no  objection  to  this  arrangement,  "  if  you  place  your  hand 
to  the  right,  you  will  find  an  aperture  just  large  enough 
for  your  fingers,  and  in  there  you  will  feel  a  spring — press 
that  hard,  and  a  door  will  open." 

I  ascended  the  narrow,  winding  stairs  in  twilight  dark- 
ness, with  singular  feelings,  as  the  reader  will  readily  be- 
lieve. I  was  about  to  behold  the  fair  being  that  had  so 
enraptured  my  friend,  of  whom  I  had  heard  so  much,  and 
whose  singular  history  I  knew  was  in  itself  a  living  ro- 
mance. At  length  I  stood  upon  the  upper  stair,  in  almost 
total  darkness  —  for  the  only  light  here  was  what  had 
struggled  up  through  the  half  open  door  below.  I  placed 
my  hand  against  the  wall  to  the  right,  found  the  aperture, 


MISTRESS  ANNE.  149 


and  in  it  the  secret  spring.  I  pressed  hard  against  the 
spring,  a  portion  of  the  wall  seemed  slowly  to  give  way,  a 
bright  light  shone  in  upon  me,  and  taking,  a  step  or  two 
forward,  I  stood  in  the  upper  chamber  ot  the  tower,  and  in 
the  prison  of  Viola  St.  Auburn. 


10 


CHAPTER  XV. 


MYSTERIES   OF  THE   TOWER. 


The  apartment  I  had  so  unceremoniouslj  entered,  with- 
out giving  its  fair  tenant  any  warning  of  my  approach, 
was  small  and  circular,  like  the  one  below,  with  its  four 
long  narrow  windows  looking  to  the  four  points  of  the 
compass,  and  was  furnished,  carpeted,  and  decorated  in 
the  same  style,  with  sofas,  ottomans,  tables,  mirrors  and 
paintings.  The  windows  here  were  open,  and  were  withal 
so  high  above  the  ground,  that  a  goodly  portion  of  the  park 
could  be  seen  over  the  angular  roofs  of  the  surrounding 
buildings ;  and  the  summit  of  the  tower,  one  story  higher 
still,  commanded  a  view,  not  only  of  the  grounds  of  D'Es- 
tang  Ville,  but  of  the  adjacent  country  for  miles  around. 

I  glanced  around  the  Ciiamler;  but  of  all  I  saw,  only 
one  object  arrested  my  attention,  and  this  enchained  it.  It 
was  a  beautiful  female,  just  in  the  bloom  of  life,  whoso 
attitude  was  that  of  one  startled  to  her  feet  by  the  abrupt 
and  unexpected  intrusion  of  a  stranger.  I  had  only  time 
to  note  that  she  was  robed  in  white,  with  golden  ringlets 
flowing  carelessly  down  around  her  face  and  neck,  and  over 
a  portion  of  her  snowy  garments — that  her  eyes  were 
bright  and  sparkling — that  her  features  were  very  pale, 
but  radiant  with  no  common  intellect — when,  advancing  a 
step  or  two,  with  lady-like  grace,  she  said,  in  a  clear,  sil- 
very voice,  which,  though  soft,  had  a  peculiar  ring  of 
courtly  pride,  if  I  may  so  express  myself; 
(150) 


MYSTERIES  OF   THE   TOWER.  151 

"  May  I  know  why  I  am  honored  with  this  unexpected 
visit  of  a  stranger  ?" 

"Have  I  the  pleasure  of  addressing  Miss  Viola  St. 
Auhurn  ?"  I  said,  in  reply. 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir,"  she  answered,  with  a  courtly 
bow,  and  an  air  of  condescension. 

"  Then  permit  me  to  say,  Miss  St.  Auburn,  I  bring  you 
good  tidings." 

"  They  could  never  come  in  a  time  more  needed,"  she 
rejoined,  with  something  like  a  sigh ;  "  for  good  tidings 
have  of  late  been  strangers  to  me.  Am  I  honored  with 
the  visit  of  an  emissary  of  Count  D'Estang's  ?"  she  in- 
quired ;  and  I  fancied  there  was  a  certain  degree  of  irony 
in  her  tone. 

"No,  Miss  St.  Auburn,"  I  replied,  "I  come  from  one 
whom  I  have  reason  to  know  is  an  enemy  of  his  lordship, 
and  a  true  friend  of  the  lady  I  address." 

A  change  like  lightning  came  over  her  countenance — a 
bright  ray  of  hope  animated  her  features,  making  them 
beautiful  beyond  description  —  and  slightly  raising  her 
hands,  and  taking  a  quick  step  or  two  forward,  with  her 
eyes  fixed  intently  on  mine,  she  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  the 
deepest  anxiety : 

"  Speak  !  his  name  ?" 

"  Morton  Harley." 

"  God  be  praised  ! — at  last !"  she  ejaculated ;  and  drop- 
ping her  head  upon  her  heaving  bosom,  and  sinking  upon 
a  seat  near,  she  covered  her  face  and  burst  into  tears. 

If  the  mere  mention  of  my  having  come  from  one  sht 
BO  dearly  loved,  could  excite  such  deep  emotions  in  the 
breast  of  Viola,  I  felt  that  Harley  had  acted  with  his  usua. 
wisdom  in  not  disclosing  himself  to  her  too  suddenly.  As 
soon  as  she  could  in  any  degree  regain  composure,  she 
looked  up  quickly,  fixed  her  eyes  piercingly  upon  me — with 


152  VIOLA. 


an  expression  of  hope,  and  fear,  and  doubt — and  exclaimed, 
eagerly : 

"  You  are  not  deceiving  me,  sir  ?'* 

"Upon  my  honor,  as  a  gentleman,  no,  Miss  St.  Au- 
burn," I  replied;  and  I  felt  there  was  something  convincing 
in  my  look  that  my  words  were  words  of  truth.  "  Morton 
Harley  and  I  are  friends,"  I  went  on  to  say :  "  my  name 
is  Henry  Walton ;  we  first  met  in  Virginia,  my  native 
place — afterward  on  the  Ohio ;  we  have  ever  since  been 
companions ;  he  has  honored  me  with  his  confidence  ;  and 
we  have  come  hither  expressly  in  search  of  yourself,  with 
a  view  to  reHeve  you  from  captivity." 

"  Thanks !  sir — thanks  !  Oh,  I  could  bless  you  on  my 
knees !"  she  cried,  hurriedly,  coming  forward  and  taking 
my  hand.  "  You  must  excuse  my  weakness  and  doubt, 
Mr.  Walton  ;  but  oh,  sir,  could  you  know  what  I  have  suf- 
fered !  You  said  we^  Mr.  Walton  :  Is  he — is  Morton — is 
Mr.  Harley  then  with  you  ?" 

"In  the  room  below,"  I  answered. 

"Oh,  Heavens!  so  near?"  she  exclaimed.  "But  how 
did  you  obtain  access  to  this  prison  ?  for  I  can  call  it  by 
no  milder  term." 

I  hurriedly  gave  her  the  particulars,  alluded  to  her  let- 
ter, mentioned  the  disguise  of  my  friend,  and  concluded 
by  saying : 

"  And  for  the  rest,  Miss  St.  Auburn,  you  shall  have  it 
from  the  lips  of  Morton  Harley  himself,  whom  I  will  im- 
mediately send  to  you." 

I  then  bowed  myself  out,  leaving  her  seated  upon  a 
8ofa,  pale  and  agitated. 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Harley,  as  I  entered  the  chamber 
below,  "  have  you  seen  her  ?" 

"  I  have,  Morton,  and  have  prepared  her  to  see  you." 

He  grasped  my  hand,  pressed  it  hard,  and  without  a 


MYSTERIES   OF    THE    TOWER.  153 

word,  but  with  a  look  I  understood,  disappeared  up  the 
narrow  winding  stairs.  A  moment  or  two  after,  I  heard  a 
joyful  crj,  and  then  all  became  still.  That  the  lovers 
might  have  no  listeners,  other  than  themselves,  I  now 
closed  the  secret  door,  and  found  myself  alone  in  the 
apartment  with  Anne. 

She  was  standing  by  a  large  painting,  a  few  feet  distant; 
and  as  she  turned  her  face  toward  me,  I  saw  that  she  was 
more  pale  than  usual,  and  very  much  agitated. 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  am  terrified  !"  she  said,  in  a  low,  tremulous 
tone. 

"Any  new  cause  of  alarm?"  I  inquired. 

*'I  have  reflected  on  what  I  have  done,  and  am  doing," 
she  replied  ;  "  and  should  my  lord  unexpectedly  return, 
what  will  become  of  us  ?" 

"AVe  will  not  borrow  trouble,"  I  rejoined,  "but  face  the 
evil  only  when  there  is  no  alternative." 

"  Oh  !  sir,  you  do  not  know  his  lordship  so  well  as  I," 
she  pursued,  "  or  you  w^ould  tremble  at  the  bare  thought 
of  meeting  him  in  an  angry  mood  !  He  is  terrible  in  his 
anger !  and  he  is  all-powerful  to  execute  whatever  he 
wills !" 

"He  is  only  a  man,"  I  said;  "and  though  I  would 
rather  not  meet,  I  do  not  fear  him." 

"  But  you  know  him  not,  sir — you  know  him  not,  I  see. 
He  is  only  a  man  himself — but  he  is  at  the  head  of — " 

"Of  a  band  of  outlaws,"  I  rejoined,  as  Anne  stopped, 
probably  bethinking  herself  that  she  was  on  the  point  of 
betraying  a  secret.     "  I  suspected  as  much  " 

"  I  did  not  say  that — I  did  not  mean — " 

"Never  mind,"  I  interrupted:  "  at  present  we  will  not 
discuss  the  matter.  But  if  his  lordship  is  so  powerful,  and 
80  dreadful  in  his  anger,"  I  continued,  "there  is  so  much 


154  VIOLA. 


tne  more  necessity  that  we  find  a  speedy  way  to  get 
Ma'm'selle  Viola  out  of  his  clutches." 

"  Ah,  sir,  I  fear  it  cannot  be  done — in  fact,  I  am  certain 
of  it — and  therefore  I  think  it  best  that  you  and  your 
friend  depart  ere  an  exposure  takes  place." 

'*  And  do  you  think  we  have  ventured  thus  far,  to  be 
turned  from  our  purpose  now  ?"  I  rejoined,  sternly.  "  You 
must  have  a  very  poor  opinion  of  our  courage  and  manly 
qualities,  if,  after  having  found  the  lady  we  came  to  seek,  you 
can  for  a  moment  suppose  we  will  go  quietly  away,  and 
leave  her  .in  the  hands  of  a  villain,  and  a  victim  to  your 
jealousy  !" 

"  But  I  will  swear,  most  sacredly,  never  to  injure  a  hair 
of  her  head." 

"  It  is  useless  to  talk,  girl — we  are  determined  upon  our 
course." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?"  she  asked,  in  an  excited  tone. 

*'Not  to  quit  D'Estang  Ville,  unless  Viola  St.  Auburn 
goes  with  us." 

"But  if  I  convince  you  she  cannot  escape?" 

"  Then  we  shall  remain  to  brave  the  anger  of  this  terrible 
Count." 

"  But  in  his  rage  he  may  kill  you  !" 

"  We  take  our  chance,  of  course." 

"  Heavens  !  I  tremble  at  the  consequences  !  Will  no- 
thing induce  you  to  depart  without  her  ?" 

"No,  nothing." 

"  But  suppose  I  summon  my  lord's  domestics,  and  have 
you  forcibly  ejected  ?" 

"  What  !  after  the  oath  you  have  taken  to  assist  us  ?*' 

"But  circumstances  may  compel  me  to  break  that  oath  !'* 

"  It  shall  be  our  care,  then,  you  do  not  have  an  opportu- 
nity.    Since  you  have    hinted  at  treachery,  therefore,  I 


MYSTERIES   OF   THE   TOWER.  155 

feel  justified  in  telling  you,  you  are  yourself  a  prisoner  in 
this  tower." 

"Indeed!"  returned  the  damsel,  with  flashing  eyes. 
"  Since  you  talk  thus,  I  feel  justified  in  testing  your 
assertion  ;"  and  she  sprung  away  to  the  door.  "  Locked  !" 
she  cried,  in  a  tone  of  alarm,  recoiling  in  dismay. 

"  You  see,  girl,  I  have  not  made  any  vain  boast." 

"Oh  !  Heavens  !  Heavens!  what  shall  I  do?"  she  cried. 

"  Find  a  way  for  us  to  escape  with  Ma'm'selle  Viola ; 
and  do  not  again  attempt  it  yourself,"  I  replied,  severely, 
"  or  we  shall  be  compelled  to  adopt  harsh  measures." 

"  But  I  know  of  no  way  for  you  to  escape,"  she  re- 
joined, much  alarmed. 

"  What  of  the  secret  passage  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  where  it  is ;  your  friend  and  I  have 
been  searching  for  it ;  and  even  if  found,  it  may  not  lead 
out  of  the  mansion,  and  certainly  not  beyond  the 
enclosure." 

"  Well,"  I  returned,  a  new  idea  striking  me,  "with  your 
approval,  could  we  not  take  the  porter  into  our  confidence, 
and  be  let  out  through  the  mansion,  without  being  dis- 
turbed?" 

"  How  would  you  leave  the  grounds  ?" 

"  Through  one  of  the  gates." 

"  But  suppose  the  porter  should  refuse  to  let  you  pass  ?" 

"  Our  demand  to  be  allowed  to  pass,  might  be  backed  by 
such  authority  as  this,"  I  replied,  producing  one  of  my 
revolvers. 

"  But  if  I  connive  at  your  escape,  what  will  become  of 
me,  when  his  lordship  returns  and  learns  all  ?" 

"You  are  the  best  judge  of  that  yourself;  you  shall  go 
with  us  if  you  like:  one  thing  is  certain,  however — youi 
fate  cannot  be  worse  than  you  had  planned  for  yourself,  if 
he  succeeded  in  wedding  this  lady." 


156 


YIOLA. 


Anne  remained  thoughtful  for  a  few  moments ;  and  then 
brightening  at  a  new  idea,  exclaimed: 

"  I  have  it !  I  have  it !  You  can  perhaps  effect  an 
escape  with  the  lady,  and  at  the  same  time  save  me  from 
disgrace.  My  plan  is  this :  I  will  call  in  Pierre ;  we  will 
frighten  him,  for  he  is* timid,  into  compliance  with  our 
wishes ;  and  you  shall  leave  us  both  gagged  and  bound — 
BO  that  if  not  liberated  by  the  other  servants,  (and  if  so, 
they  can  testify  to  the  fact,)  vre  can,  when  his  lordship 
returns,  give  out  that  we  were  overpowered,  and  our 
condition  will  be  proof  of  our  assertion." 

"Not  a  bad  plan,"  I  said,  approvingly. 

"  Then  let  us  hasten  its  execution,"  said  the  damsel, 
eagerly.  "  I  can  soon  summon  Pierre,  and  we  ought  to 
lose  no  time." 

"  I  must  consult  my  friend,"  I  replied. 

"  Oh,  hasten  to  him,  then  !" 

"  I  would  rather  await  his  return,"  I  answered  ;  "doubt- 
less he  will  soon  rejoin  us." 

I  did  not  like  to  disturb  Harley,  for  I  knew  that  he  and 
Viola  had  a  thousand  things  to  say  to  each  other,  which  could 
only  be  said  in  the  absence  of  a  third  party.  I  seated 
myself,  therefore,  in  no  very  patient  mood,  for  I  felt  that 
every  moment  was  precious.  Minute  followed  minute,  but 
no  Harley  came.  I  grew  restless  and  uneasy,  and  listened 
to  every  sound,  hoping  it  would  prove  to  be  his  footsteps  on 
the  stairs.  Had  he  forgotten  where  he  was,  and  the 
business  that  brought  him  here  ?  Perhaps  so — for  when 
were  lovers,  alone  together,  ever  known  to  act  rationally 
and  prudently,  in  an  emergency  like  the  present?  At 
length  I  got  up,  and  paced  the  room  to  and  fro. 

"Had  you  not  better  speak  to  your  friend  ?"  suggested 
Anne. 

"  Not  yet — he  will  soon  be  here." 


MYSTERIES  OF   THE   TOWER.  157 

A  half  hour  passed  away,  and  my  patience  became 
exhausted. 

"  This  will  never  do,"  I  said. 

I  opened  the  secret  door,  and  called  my  friend  loudly 
by  name.     No  answer.     I  called  again.     No  answer. 

"  Come,"  I  said  to  my  companion,  "  we  will  go  up  to 
them — for  I  feel  with  you  that  delay  is  dangerous." 

"I  will  remain  here,"  she  replied,  "till  you  return." 

"  No,"  rejoined  I,  bluntly,  "  I  cannot  trust  you  ;  remem- 
ber you  have  made  one  attempt  at  escape  already." 

She  colored  deeply,  made  no  further  objection,  but 
reluctantly,  I  thought,  complied  with  my  request.  We 
ascended  to  the  third  story  chamber,  the  secret  door  of 
which  I  found  closed.  I  knocked.  No  answer.  Again  I 
knocked.  No  answer.  I  listened,  but  could  hear  n^ 
sound.  Half  indignant  that  Harley  could  so  forget  him 
self  at  such  a  time,  I  pressed  the  spring  and  pushed  the 
door  open. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  disturb  you,  but — " 

I  had  got  thus  far  in  my  speech,  and  my  body  cleverly 
into  the  chamber,  when  I  arrested  my  tongue  and  my 
steps,  and  looked  around  me  with  an  astonished  and  half 
bewildered  air.  The  room  was  apparently  tenantless — no 
Morton  or  Viola  was  visible. 

"  Harley  !"  I  called,  thinking  he  might  be  hiding  behind 
some  of  the  furniture.  "  Come  !  this  is  no  time  for 
practical  jokes — where  are  you  ?" 

No  answer.  I  looked  at  Anne,  who  had  entered  the 
apartment  behind  me.  She  was  very  pale,  and  seemed 
agitated  by  a  kind  of  superstitious  fear — at  least  I  fancied  so. 

"  What  means  this  ?"  I  demanded. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  answered,  in  a  hushed  tone,  with 
quivering  lips,  looking  timidly  around  her. 

"  Come  with  me,  and  let  us  search  the  apartment,"  1 


158  VIOLA. 


said ;  and  I  took  her  trembling  hand,  and  retained  it,  for  I 
was  fearful  she  might  attempt  another  escape  and  succeed. 

We  looked  behind  the  sofas  and  ottomans,  and  under 
everything,  but  found  nothing.  Some  crimson  curtains 
hung  before  a  small  recess,  which,  drawn  aside,  disclosed  a 
bed  on  which  Viola  had  reposed  of  nights  during  her 
imprisonment.  We  looked  under  this,  but  found  no  traces 
of  those  of  whom  we  were  in  search.  Again  I  called 
Harlej,  loudly,  some  two  or  three  times — but  still  received 
no  answer. 

"  Girl !"  I  cried,  grasping  tightly  the  hand  of  my  fright- 
ened companion — "what  means  this  ?  where  are  they?" 

"  Upon  my  soul !  I  know  no  more  than  yourself,  sir,"  she 
replied. 

*'  There  is  a  secret  passage  out  of  this  chamber,  other 
than  the  one  by  which  we  entered — show  it  to  me  !" 

"If  you  were  to  kill  me  this  minute,"  she  replied,  with 
ashy  lips,  and  a  cold  tremor  running  through  her  frame, 
"  I  could  not.  for  I  know  of  none.  Perhaps — "  she  hesi- 
tated, looked  wildly  around,  and  then  added,  pressing 
closer  to  me :  "  Oh  !  sir,  this  has  been  called  the  haunted 
chamber." 

I  saw  she  was  really  frightened,  and  I  withheld  the 
angry  rejoinder  that  was  upon  my  tongue.  I  was  just  be- 
ginning to  feel  very  strangely  myself,  when  I  saw  a  paint- 
ing, on  the  side  we  had  entered,  swing  back,  and  lo !  there 
stood  Morton  and  Viola. 

"This  way,  Harry!  this  way!"  he  said:  "I  was  just 
coming  down  for  you." 

"  Have  you  found  the  secret  passage  ?"  I  exclaimed, 
springing  forward. 

"  One  leading  up,  but  not  down,"  he  replied;  "but  1 
have  found  something  else  you  may  as  well  look  at  " 

"What  is  it?" 


MYSTERIES  OF   THE  TOWER.  159 

"  Viola  will  show  you.  Go  with  her,  Harry,  and  I  will 
remain  here  with  Anne." 

"  And  I  may  as  well  inform  you,"  I  rejoined,  "  that  Mis- 
tress Anne  has  made  one  attempt  at  escape  already." 

**  Ha  !  indeed  I"  said  Harley,  fixing  his  eyes  keenly  upon 
her — "  I  was  afraid  of  this.  Well,  so  much  the  more  ne- 
cessity for  keeping  close  guard  over  her.  And  I  have 
heard  other  things,"  he  added,  still  keeping  his  eyes  upon 
her,  while  hers  sought  the  ground  in  confusion,  "  that  do 
not  reflect  any  great  credit  upon  their  author.  However, 
a  reckoning  day  must  come  for  all.  Go,  Harry,  and  return 
soon,  for  we  have  no  time  to  lose.  Viola,  dear,  you  can 
speak  to  him  as  if  he  were  myself." 

Viola  meantime  was  standing  in  a  small  recess,  disclosed 
by  the  swinging  back  of  the  painting  just  mentioned ;  and 
as  she  remained  perfectly  still,  looking  out  upon  us,  robed 
in  white,  she  resembled  a  beautiful  statue  in  a  niche.  On 
my  joining  her,  she  impulsively  seized  my  hand,  and  with 
tears  in  her  eyes,  exclaimed : 

*'  Oh,  Mr.  Walton,  Heaven  grant  the  time  may  soon 
come  when  I  can  show  you  my  gratitude  for  all  you  have 
done  for  me !" 

I  was  quite  taken  by  surprise,  and  in  some  embarrass- 
ment replied,  looking  alternately  at  her  and  my  friend  for 
explanation  : 

"  Really,  I  am  not  aware  what  I  have  done,  to — " 

"  Generous  natures  seldom  are,"  interrupted  Harley. 
*'  There — go  now.  I  have  merely  been  speaking  of  our 
friendship,  and  the  interest  you  have  taken  in  every  thing 
that  concerns  me,  and  you  see  its  effect  upon  one  who  is  as 
grateful  as  she  is  true  and  affectionate.  But  go  !  go  !  and 
return  soon." 

Viola  turned  as  Harley  ceased  speaking,  asid  saying, 
*'  Thi«  way,  I^Tr.  Walton,"  pointed  to  a  spiral  stairway,  so 


160  VIOLA. 


steep  and  narrow  that  it  was  with  no  little  difficulty  we 
could  ascend  it.  At  the  top  of  this  we  emerged  through  a 
trap  door  into  a  small,  round  apartment,  that  seemed  in- 
tended to  be  shut  out  from  observation,  even  by  persons 
visiting  the  summit  of  the  tower — which  was  still  a  few 
feet  higher — for  there  appeared  to  be  no  way  to  pass  from 
one  to  the  other.  There  were  no  windows  to  this  secret 
retreat ;  but  a  large,  heavy,  iron  lamp,  depending  from  the 
ceiling  by  an  iron  chain,  which  Viola  informed  me  she  had 
found  lighted  a  few  minutes  before,  made  sombrously  visible 
the  objects  in  the  apartment. 

One  hasty  glance  around,  and  I  understood  why  Harley 
had  wished  me  to  come  hither.  In  one  corner  stood  a 
small,  but  very  solid  press,  for  steel  or  copperplate  printing 
— in  another  a  machine  for  die-sinking,  or  stamping  coin ; 
while  scattered  about  in  a  careless  manner,  were  tools  of 
various  kinds — dies — plates — "bogus,"  stamped  and  un- 
stamped— bank  notes  signed  and  unsigned — and  a  hundred 
other  things  unnecessary  to  be  mentioned. 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  I,  taking  a  rapid  survey  of  the 
apartment — "  so  monsieur  my  lord  is  at  the  head  of  a  gang 
of  counterfeiters,  as  Morton  and  I  more  than  suspected 
before  we  came  here?" 

"  So  it  seems,"  replied  Viola. 

"  But  how  did  you  find  this  out  ?" 

"  The  Count  has  more  than  once  visited  me  in  the  night, 
much  to  my  alarm,"  she  replied,  in  a  low,  quick,  excited 
tone ;  "  but  he  always  treated  me  respectfully,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  telling  me  I  could  never  go  forth  again  but  as 
his  bride — that  he  had  sworn  this,  and  that  he  was  one  to 
keep  his  oath.  My  reply,  of  course,  has  always  been  a 
firm,  decided  negative — though  my  very  heart  has  shrunk 
within  me  when  I  have  so  spoken.  Well,  several  times, 
for  hours  after  he  had  left  me,  I  heard  strange  noises  in 


MYSTERIES    OF   THE    TOWER.  161 

this  direction — and  once  I  questioned  him  as  to  the  cause. 
His  answer,  doubtless  intended  to  frighten  me,  was  that  the 
room  I  occupied  was  termed  the  haunted  chamber,  and  he 
jad  no  other  explanation  for  the  sounds  I  heard.  I  sus- 
y.ected  more  natural  causes,  however ;  and  the  last  time  he 
was  here,  I  determined,  unknown  to  him,  to  watch  his  exit. 
I  succeeded ;  and  discovered  that,  instead  of  leaving  the 
chamber  by  the  secret  door  through  which  you  entered,  as 
had  previously  been  my  impression,  he,  after  going  to 
that,  cast  a  Ininied  glance  around,  and  glided  to  another 
painting,  which  immediately  opened  and  closed  behind  him. 
In  my  conversation  with  Morton,  I  mentioned  this  to  him ; 
and  approaching  this  painting,  and  making  a  careful  exami- 
nation, he  soon  discovered  the  spring  which  commanded 
the  door ;  and  opening  the  latter,  we  found  our  way 
hither." 

"  And  did  the  Count  always  return  through  your  cham- 
ber ?"  I  inquired. 

"  Never,  to  my  knowledge,"  answered  Viola — "  and  from 
this  Morton  argues  that  there  is  a  secret  passage  from  here 
down  through  the  tower.  And  besides,  I  have  heard  these 
strange  noises  at  times  when  the  Count  had  not  previously 
visited  me." 

"He  is  a  villain  of  the  darkest  dye,  I  fear,"  I  rejoined. 

"  I  have  from  the  first  regarded  him  as  a  bold,  bad 
man,"  returned  Viola,  shuddering ;  "  but  I  was  not  aware 
of  the  extent  of  his  criminality,  till  I  came  hither — in  fact 
I  knew  not  of  this  till  w^ithin  the  hour — though  I  can- 
not say  I  am  surprised  at  it." 

"  I  wonder  you  ever  permitted  yourself  to  be  brought 
here  at  all,"  I  said. 

*'  My  father  insisted  on  it — and  what  could  I  do  ? — though 
never  would  I  have  sufi'ered  it,  had  I  known  what  I  now 
know  ;  but  I  was  told  that,  after  visitin;::  the  Count's  rosi- 

1  I 


162  VIOLA. 


dence,  if  I  woidd  not  consent  to  wed  him,  I  should  have  a 
choice  between  him  and  a  convent;  and  in  the  hope  that 
my  father  would  eventually  relent  from  his  stern  determina- 
tion, should  I  in  part  comply  with  his  whim,  I  reluctantly 
assented  to  the  arrangement — though  not,  I  must  confess, 
without  some  dark  forebodings  of  the  troubles  that  have 
come  upon  me." 

''  And  could  your  father  be  so  cruel  as  to  forfeit  his 
word  after  you  came  here,  and  no  longer  give  you  a  choice, 
save  between  becoming  the  wife  of  this  villanous  Count 
and  being  a  close  prisoner  in  this  tower  ?" 

"  Alas  !  I  know  not  how  to  answer  you,"  replied  Viola, 
in  a  dejected  tone ;  "  for  I  have  not  seen  my  father  since 
the  morning  after  my  arrival  ;  and  then  he  came  and  de- 
parted with  Count  D'Estang.  He  seemed  in  a  sadder  mood 
than  usual ;  and  ere  they  left  the  apartment,  some  words 
passed  between  them,  that  I  fancied,  for  I  could  not  dis- 
tinguish what  was  said,  were  not  of  the  most  amicable  na- 
ture. Morton  is  apprehensive  he  has  met  with  foul  play ; 
but,  oh  Heaven !  I  hope  not — for  much  as  he  has  wronged 
me,  he  is  still  my  father,  and  I  would  have  no  harm  befall 
him.  Besides,  the  Count  has  always  assured  me  that  he  is 
well,  and  that  on  the  day  I  consent  to  become  his  wife,  he 
shall  reappear  to  congratulate  me.  This  positive  assurance, 
coupled  with  his  absence,  and  the  fact  that  neither  the 
porter  nor  this  girl,  as  Morton  tells  me,  have  seen  him 
since  that  morning — leads  me  to  think  he  may  perhaps,  like 
myself,  be  a  prisoner  within  this  very  tower." 

"  But  why,  Viola,  (if  you  will  permit  me  as  a  friend  to 
make  use  of  the  name  most  familiar  to  me) — why,  think 
you,  does  this  Count  persist  in  wishing  to  marry  you  against 
your  inclination  ?" 

"  I  really  cannot  say,  unless  it  is  because  he  has  said  he 

Wnnltl  t]n    if.  sw.un    ]\^'  von^d    do    it.  and    is    dp+orpi^nofl    to 


MYSTERIES   OF    THE   TOWER.  163 


make  his  word  good,  let  the  consequences  be  what  thej 
may.  Oh,  merciful  Heaven !  that  we  were  all  safely  out  of 
his  clutches !" 

"And,  Heaven  aid  us!  we  soon  shall  be,"  I  rejoined. 
"  Cheer  up,  Viola — you  are  now  with  friends,  who  will 
only  quit  you  with  life,  or  when  you  are  again  in  safety." 

"Oh,  how  can  I  suflSciently  thank  you!"  she  again  ex- 
claimed, her  soft,  dark  eyes  filling  with  tears  of  gratitude. 
"  I  can  understand  why  dear  Morton  has  ventured  so  much 
— but  you  are,  comparatively  speaking,  a  stranger." 

"  Say  no  more,  Viola — say  no  more — but  know  that 
your  safety  shall  henceforth  be  as  much  my  care  as  his 
who  is  our  mutual  friend."  She  would  have  again  replied, 
but  I  hastened  to  add  :  "  Come  !  with  your  permission,  we 
will  rejoin  Morton — for  I  have  a  plan  to  lay  before  him, 
by  which  I  hope  to  effect  a  speedy  escape." 

We  found  Harley  busy  with  another  painting,  nearly 
opposite  our  place  of  entrance,  with  Mistress  Anne  seated 
near,  sobbing  half  hysterically. 

"Well,  Harry,  you  saw!"  he  exclaimed. 

"What  proves  you  right  in  your  surmise,"  I  rejoined. 

"  We  may,  if  we  get  away  in  time,  make  this  discovery 
rather  troublesome  to  his  lordship;''  and  there  was  a  sar- 
castic emphasis  on  the  last  word. 

"  And  I  have  a  plan  which  may  give  us  speedy  release," 
I  replied ;  and  I  hurriedly  put  Harley  in  possession  of  the 
conversation  held  with  Anne  regarding  our  escape. 

"I  like  it,"  he  rejoined,  "for  it  is  more  likely  to  be 
successful  than  the  other,  and  will  save  us  the  trouble  of 
looking  for  this  secret  passage.  You  consent  to  this, 
Anne?" 

"  So  you  will  leave  me  gagged  and  bound,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"Oh,  never  fear  but  we  will  do  that,"  said  Harley,  with 


164  VIOLA. 


a  comical  expression,  that,  serious  as  I  felt,  forced  me  to 
smile. 

^'  But  my  father  !"  now  interposed  Viola  :  "  he  must 
not  be  left  here  a  prisoner  !" 

"If  your  father  is  a  prisoner  here,  dear  Viola,"  replied 
Harley,  a  dark  frown  settling  on  his  brow,  *'  he  owes  it  to 
himself — to  the  scheme  of  villany  he  attempted  to  practise 
against  you — and  I  have  no  sympathy  with  him  whatever." 

"But  still,  Morton,  dear  Morton,  he  is  my  father,"  said 
Viola,  gently,  approaching  him  she  addressed,  resting  her 
soft  white  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  letting  her  bright 
dark  eyes,  all  eloquent  with  love,  beam  tenderly  and  plead- 
ingly upon  his.  "  He  is  my  father,  dear  Morton ;  and 
were  he  to  suffer,  even  for  his  own  misdeeds,  your  Viola 
could  not  be  happy." 

"Pardon  me,  if  I  doubt  he  is  your  father,"  returned 
Harley ;  "for  no  father  could  so  misuse  a  child  as  he  has 
you,  my  own  fair  flower ;"  and  throwing  an  arm  around 
her  slender  waist,  he  drew  her  fondly  to  him. 

"  But  you  will  forgive  and  forget  all  for  my  sake,  dear 
Morton,  and  try  to  liberate  him,  will  you  not  ?"  and  again 
the  soft  pleading  eyes  of  Viola  spoke  more  than  her  lips. 

"Were  I  certain  of  his  being  a  prisoner  within  this 
tower,  as  you  seem  to  think  he  is,  dearest,  I  would  do  much 
for  your  sake ;  but  I  tell  you  frankly,  I  would  neither  risk 
my  own  life,  nor  yours,  to  set  him  free.  And  why  should 
I  ?  Do  I  owe  him  any  gratitude  for  the  misery  he  has 
made  you  and  I  suffer  ?  Oh,  Viola !  Viola !  you  know 
not,  you  can  never  know,  the  anguish,  the  tortures,  I  have 
endured  since  the  hour  we  first  met  on  the  bank  of  that 
romantic  stream  in  old  Virginia.  When  I  look  back  over 
the  intervening  time,  it  seems  as  if  I  could  number  a  thou- 
sand years  of  grief  and  agony,  with  only  here  and  there  a 
day  of  happiness.     And  who  caused  me  all  this  suffering  ? 


MYSTERIES   OF   THE    T0T7ER.  165 

— who  but  the  man  you  term  your  father,  whom  you  would 
now  have  me  peril  my  life  to  rescue  from  a  just  punish- 
ment !  But  come,  dearest,  we  must  talk  of  this  elsewhere 
— for  now  my  only  care  is  to  get  you  safely,  if  not  secretly, 
away  from  here,  before  the  Count  returns." 

"Oh,  Heavens!  we  are  lost!  we  are  lost!"  now  cried 
Anne,  in  a  tone  of  the  utmost  alarm,  clasping  her  hands 
wildly. 

She  was  standing  by  the  southern  window,  looking  out 
upon  the  park,  over  the  front  building. 

"What  is  it  ?"  cried  Harley  and  I  in  a  breath,  spring- 
ing to  her. 

"  The  Count !  the  Count !  See  ! .  he  has  returned,"  she 
almost  shrieked. 

It  needed  but  a  single  glance  toward  the  left  hand  gate, 
to  convince  us  she  spoke  the  truth — for  there,  sure  enough, 
coming  leisurely  up  the  avenue,  was  the  very  same  horse- 
man we  had  seen  ride  away  an  hour  or  two  since.  The 
next  moment  he  spurred  his  gallant  animal ;  and  the  roof 
of  the  building  before  us  soon  shut  him  from  our  view,  as 
he  drew  near  and  nearer  to  the  mansion. 

Harley  now  turned  to  me,  and  I  to  him,  and  we  read 
in  each  other's  looks,  the  stern  resolve  of  men  who  were 
determined  to  face  the  worst  with  unflinching  firmress. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 


A   NOBLE   PRISONER. 


"Well,  Harry,  what  are  we  to  do  ?"  said  Harley,  who 
was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  Flj  !  fly  ! — oh  !  fly,  and  save  yourselves  !"  cried 
Viola,  springing  to  us. 

"  And  leave  you  in  the  hands  of  a  villain,  dearest  ?"  re- 
plied Harley,  throwing'  an  arm  around  her  and  drawing 
her  to  him.  "  We  should  be  cowards  indeed  to  do  that, 
my  pretty  flower !" 

"  But  he  will  kill  you,  if  you  stay  here,  Morton  !  Oh, 
fly  !  fly  !  for  my  sake  !" 

"  You  forget,  my  dear  Viola,  we  could  not  escape — foi 
this  terrible  lord  is  already  here." 

"But  you  came  as  peddlers,  you  tell  me — depart  as 
such,  and  he  will  not  molest  you.  This  lady,  I  am  sure, 
will  keep  the  secret,  for  her  own  sake  ;"  and  she  appealed 
to  Anne  with  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  yes — I  will — I  swear  it !"  cried  Anne,  in  alarm. 
"  Oh  !  gentlemen,  go  !  go  ! — do  as  this  lady  bids  you,  and 
all  may  yet  be  well." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  their  advice,  Harry?"  inquired 
Harley,  looking  at  me.  ^ 

"  That  it  is  meant  for  our  good,  perhaps,  but  should  not 
be  followed,"  I  replied. 

He  grasped  my  hand. 

"Were  there  twenty  terrible  lords,  instead  of  one,  I 
i^ould  not  stir  an  inch,"  he  said. 
(166) 


A  NOBLE   PRISONER.  167 

"Nor  I,"  I  rejoined. 

"You  see,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Viola,  "we  are 
not  to  be  moved — so  spare  us  your  entreaties,  and  be  firm, 
and  we  will  save  you,  or  perish  in  the  attempt.  Here, 
seat  yourself  here,  dearest,  on  this  sofa,  and  do  not  stir 
from  here,  nor  speak.  Will  this  Count  seek  to  enter  the 
tower?"  he  continued,  addressing  Anne,  who  stood  wring- 
ing her  hands,  the  picture  of  despair. 

"  Doubtless  he  will,"  she  answered,  in  tremulous  tones. 
"  Oh,  go  !  gentlemen — go  ! — in  mercy  to  yourselves,  and 
us,  go !" 

"  Hush  !  not  a  word.     If  I  had  a  rope !" 

"I  saw  one  in  the  room  above,"  I  hastened  to  say. 

"  Ah,  ha,  ha  !  Fate  again  !  Quick,  Harry,  and  get  it ! 
there  is  no  time  to  lose." 

I  bounded  away,  and  in  less  than  a  minute  returned 
with  a  good-sized  coil. 

"  Now,  Harry — and  you,  Anne — follow  me  to  the  room 
below." 

"  Oh  !   sir,  I — "  began  Anne,  drawing  back. 

"  Girl!"  cried  Harley,  interrupting  her,  seizing  her  by 
the  wrist,  and  producing  a  revolver :  "  this  is  no  time  to 
trifle.  You  have  sworn  to  obey  us,  and  you  shall !  or 
take  the  consequences  !  "VYe  are  armed,  and  desperate — 
come .'"  and  he  dragged  her  toward  the  door  by  main 
force. 

"  Kill  me  !"  she  cried — "  kill  me  !  I  deserve  death,  for 
my  unintentional  treachery  to  my  lord." 

"  Would  you  ^ave  his  life  ?"  demanded  Harley,  fiercely. 

"Yes  !  yes  !  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  my  own." 

"  Then  follow  us,  and  give  no  alarm  !  or,  I  swear  to  you, 
I  will  send  the  first  ball  through  his  head !" 

"  Oh  !  then,"  pleaded  Anne,  "  bind  me  !  bind  me  !  that 
he  may  think  me  overpowered,  not  treacherous." 


168  VIOLA. 


"If  we  have  time,  I  will.     Come  !  quick  !  quick  !" 

"We  all  now  hurried  down  to  the  chamber  below,  but 
none  more  eagerly  than  Anne. 

"There  is  time!"  she  cried;  "quick  now,  with  your 
cord ! — and  oh !  for  Heaven's  sake,  good  gentlemen,  do 
not  harm  him  !" 

It  was  the  work  of  less  than  a  minute  to  bind  fast  the  hands 
and  feet  of  Mistress  Anne,  who  aided  us  all  she  could  ;  and 
leaving  her  lying  upon  the  ground,  we  hastened  to  the 
window  that  commanded  a  view  of  the  bridge. 

"  Now,  then,  if  he  would  only  enter  by  the  door  here," 
began  Harley  ;  but  interrupted  his  speech  with  the  exclama- 
tion, "  Ha  !  he  comes  !  Quick  !  Harry — here  !  stand  by 
me,  ready  to  spring  upon  him!"  and  hurriedly  unlocking 
the  door,  he  placed  himself,  so  that  while  open  it  would 
cover  him,  and  I  hastily  took  my  position  beside  him. 

Scarcely  had  I  done  so,  when  the  door  was  thrown 
quickly  open,  and  a  voice,  which  we  instantly  recognized, 
exclaimed,  angrily  : 

"Where  are  these  thieving — " 

The  sentence  was  cut  short  by  a  heavy  blow  from  the 
fist  of  Harley,  which  staggered  the  speaker  forward,  and 
brought  him  to  his  knees ;  and  before  he  could  recover 
himself,  we  were  upon  him  ;  and,  working  like  men  whose 
lives  depended  on  their  exertions,  we  had  him  fast  bound 
almost  in  the  time  it  has  taken  me  to  record  the  fact. 

On  finding  himself  a  prisoner,  in  his  own  strong-hold, 
the  rage  of  the  Count  knew  no  bounds.  His  pale  face 
grew  livid  with  passion — his  eyes  shot  gleams  like  fire — he 
ground  his  teeth,  and  foamed,  and  rolled,  and  worked  him- 
self in  his  cords  like  a  giant  and  poured  forth  a  volley  of 
oaths  in  French,  that  I  would  not  repeat  even  had  they 
been  spoken  in  my  mother  tongue. 

Harley,  after  relocking  the  door,  that  we  might  have  no 


A   NOBLE    PRISONER.  169 

more  to  contend  with,  coolly  took  a  seat  along  side  of  his 
prisoner,  and  quietly  waited  till  the  first  burst  of  fury  was 
over.  It  lasted  much  longer,  however,  than  one  would 
have  thought  likely — denoting  the  Count  to  be  a  man  of 
the  most  ungovernable  passions,  who  was  now  under 
physical  restraint,  with  his  mental  powers  terribly  active, 
perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  It  was  really  painful 
to  witness  the  workings  of  the  demon  within  him  ;  and  I 
believe  that,  for  a  time,  he  was  as  much  insane  as  ever  was 
a  chained  inmate  of  Bedlam.  Oh!  such  writhing — such 
gnashing  of  teeth — such  rolling  of  the  eyes,  and  such 
contortions  of  the  countenance — I  hope  never  to  witness 
again  !  Truly  had  Anne  said,  he  was  terrible  in  his  anger ; 
and  I  verily  believe,  had  it  been  in  his  power,  he  would 
have  put  us  beyond  the  pale  of  mortality,  with  as  little 
compunction  as  he  would  have  felt  for  a  serpent  or  a 
mad  dog. 

Gradually,  at  length,  he  grew  calmer,  and  finally  ceased 
his  struggles  altogether,  fixing  his  keen,  black  eyes  upon 
Harley,  with  a  malignant  intensity  that  seemed  to  pene- 
trate to  the  very  soul.  He  was,  as  I  have  previously 
described  him,  a  finely  formed  man,  of  medium  size,  and 
some  five-and-thirty  years  of  age.  He  was,  setting  passion 
aside,  by  no  means  an  ill-looking  individual — though  his  fea- 
tures generally  were  too  sharp  and  pale  for  any  great  manly 
beauty.  His  lips  were  thin  and  close,  and  on  the  upper 
one  was  a  fine,  black  mustache,  that  contrasted  forcibly 
with  his  pale  countenance — the  more  so,  that  all  the  rest 
of  his  beard  was  kept  closely  shaved.  His  forehead  was 
high,  broad,  and  intellectual;  and  he  had  a  look  of  firm- 
ness, decision,  and  command,  that  accorded  with  his  real 
character.  His  most  remarkable  feature,  however,  was  his 
eye  ;  it  was  the  blackest  and  most  piercing  I  had  ever 
beheld  ;  and  as  I  noted  its  fiery,  snake-like  appearance,  I 


170  VIOLA. 


did  not  wonder  he  could  make  himself  feared  by  those  over 
-whom  he  could  exercise  authority  in  any  degree,  or  by 
those  whom  fortune  had  placed  within  the  limits  of  his  evil 
influence. 

Ilarley  fixed  his  eye  upon  the  Count,  and,  by  the  thought- 
ful earnestness  of  his  look,  I  knew  he  was  seeking  to  read 
the  character  of  his  enemy,  that  he  might  the  more  readily 
accomplish  the  purpose  he  had  in  view.  For  some  time 
neither  spoke ;  but  silently  regarded  each  other,  like  two 
combatants  who  have  only  ceased  hostilities  that  they  may 
the  more  readily  close  in  the  death-gripe. 

My  friend  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence ;  and  his 
language  was  altogether  diiferent  from  what  I  had  antici- 
pated, considering  the  occasion,  and  the  recent  exciting 
events. 

"Well,  Monsieur  le  Capitaine,"  he  said,  with  a  quiet 
smile,  "  if  I  were  in  your  plafie,  and  you  in  mine,  I  think 
I  would  give  it  up  as  an  unforeseen  disaster,  and  endeavor 
to  effect  a  compromise — of  course  making  it  as  favorable 
to  myself  as  I  could  under  the  circumstances — but  at  the 
same  time  resolving  to  yield  some  knotty  points,  with  a 
very  good  show  of  grace — more  especially  if  convinced,  by 
certain  demonstrations  of  my  adversary,  that  I  must  yield 
them,  nolens  volens.     What  say  you  to  this,  good  my  lord  ?" 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  demanded  the  Count,  with  an  air  of 
surprise. 

"  Why,  I  am  what  you  can  hardly  have  the  pretence  to 
be,  my  lord — an  honest  man." 

The  Count  writhed,  and  his  black  eyes  flashed. 
%      "  Villain  !"  he  muttered  through  his  shut  teeth — "  if  I 
were  only  free  of  these  cords,  I  would  teach  you  how  to 
address  yourself  to  me." 

"  Why,  there  it  is  again,  good  my  lord,"  returned  Harley, 
smiling ;  "  if  you  were  free,  of  course ;  but  you  are  not. 


A  NOBLE   PRISONER.  171 

you  see,  and  you  are  not  likely  to  be  at  present — therefore 
I  think  we  had  better  come  to  an  amicable  understanding. 
Now  if  if  is  to  be  the  word,  why,  I  can  but  repeat,  that  if 
I  were  in  your  place,  and  you  in  mine — you  understand?" 

"Who  are  you?"  cried  the  other,  fiercely;  "and  what 
do  you  seek  here  ?" 

"There  now,  the  'last  is  quite  a  sensible  question,  all 
things  considered,  and  I  may  as  well  answer  it.  In  the 
first  place,  I  seek  the  liberation  of  Viola  St.  Auburn  ;  in 
the  second  place,  I  wish  to  know  what  you  have  done  with 
her  worthy  father  ?  in  the  third  place,  I  would  ask  you,  if 
you  think  counterfeiting  an  honest  and  profitable  specu- 
lation?" 

At  these  last  words  the  Count  turned  deadly  pale,  and 
for  the  first  time  exhibited  signs  of  alarm. 

"  I  do  not  understand  your  allusions  to  count'erfeiting," 
he  replied,  with  ashy,  quivering  lips. 

"  No  ?  then  if  you  will  follow  me  to  a  certain  small 
apartment  above  us,  I  will  explain  it  to  you  in  an  unmis- 
takable way." 

"  Ha !  I  have  been  betrayed  !"  groaned  the  other, 
setting  his  teeth  hard. 

"  You  are  known,  at  all  events,"  replied  Harley, 
coolly ;  "  and  since  you  are  completely  in  our  power,  I 
would  advise  you  to  make  a  virtue  of  necessity,  and  con 
cede  us  all  we  ask." 

"  Oh  !  my  lord,  I  did  not  betray  you !"  now  cried  Anne, 
in  a  tone  of  despair. 

"Ha  !  you  here?"  cried  the  Count,  working  himself  in 
his  cords,  till  he  brought  his  eyes  to  bear  upon  her- -for 
not  having  seen  her  on  his  entrance,  this  was  the  first 
intimation  he  had  of  her  being  in  the  chamber. 

"  Oh  !  my  lord,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  did  not  betray  70U  I 
— indeed,  indeed  I  did  not ! — these  villains — " 


172  VIOLA. 


"  Hold  !"  interrupted  Harley  ;  *'  I  will  permit  no  such 
language.  Do  not  speak  again,  Mistress  Anne,  till  I  ad- 
dress you,  or  you  will  be  sorry  for  it." 

Anne  was  dumb,  through  fear  that  all  might  be  revealed 
to  him  she  both  loved  and  feared. 

"And  now,"  pursued  Harley,  turning  to  the  Count,  with 
a  stern  look,  "  as  time  is  precious  to  myself  and  friends,  if 
not  to  you,  let  us  come  to  an  understanding  at  once." 

"  Who  are  you,  sir?"  again  demanded  D'Estang. 

"  Well,  thinking  it  not  unlikely  you  have  heard  of  me 
before,  I  will  honor  you  with  my  name.  I  am  called  Mor- 
ton Harley." 

"  Ha !"  ejaculated  the  Count,  with  anything  but  a  pleas- 
ing expression ;  and  he  bit  his  nether  lip  till  the  blood 
showed  through. 

"  Now  that  you  know  who  I  am,  and  probably  divine  my 
business  here,  let  us  see  if  we  can  come  to  any  understand- 
ing," pursued  Harley. 

"  Well,  name  your  demands  !" 

"  I  will.  Monsieur ;  and  endeavor  not  to  be  unreasonable, 
considering  the  advantage  I  have  over  you." 

"You  are  a  coward,"  sneered  the  Count,  "  to  make  your 
boast  over  a  gentleman  in  fetters !  Set  me  free,  sir,  and 
see  who  gets  the  advantage  then  !" 

"  Ay,  ay — or  shoot  myself  through  the  head,"  returned 
Harley,  ironically — "  I  suppose  that  would  answer  equally 
as  well.  But  as  I  intend  to  do  neither.  Monsieur  le  Capi- 
taine,  suppose  we  come  to  the  point  at  once.  I  may  as 
well  remark,  en  passant,  that,  having  the  advantage,  I  in- 
tend to  make  good  use  of  it ;  and  as  to  the  epithet  of  coward 
— why,  should  it  ever  be  my  misfortune  to  be  reduced  to  the 
level  of  your  lordship,  I  will  leave  it  to  a  gang  of  counter- 
feiters and  thieves  to  decide  which  is  the  most  cowardly, 
to  kidnap  an  unprotected  lady,  with  the  assistance  of  her 


A   NOBLE   PRISONER.  173 

own  father,  and  shut  her  up  in  a  tower — or  to  go  boldly 
into  the  fortress  of  an  enemy,  make  him  a  prisoner,  and 
set  the  aforesaid  lady  at  liberty,  in  defiance  of  his  power. 
Now,  Monsieur  D'Estang,  lest  you  should  mistake  my  cha- 
racter, from  my  free  and  easy  way  of  speaking,  let  me  im- 
press upon  your  mind,  that  I  am  not  a  person  to  be  trifled 
with — that  I  value  life  only  for  the  use  I  can  make  of  it — 
that  I  fear  death  as  little  as  yourself,  perhaps  less — and 
that  once  determined  upon  a  course,  I  cannot  be  changed. 
And  I  would  furthermore  observe  in  this  connection,  that 
it  is  very  fortunate  for  you  that  Viola  St.  Auburn  has  sus- 
tained no  further  injury  than  irksome  imprisonment — for 
had  it  been  otherwise — had  you,  in  short,  laid  a  rude  hand 
upon  her — I  swear  to  you.  Count  D'Estang,  I  would  have 
pitched  you  headlong  from  the  top  of  this  tower,  though 
I  died  for  it  the  next  minute !  Now,  then,  do  you  begin 
to  understand  me  ?     Eh  ?" 

"  Go  on,  sir — I  am  in  your  power  at  present — but — " 

"  There,  there.  Monsieur,"  interrupted  Harley — "  that 
will  do — never  mind  the  rest.  You  are  in  our  power  for 
the  present;  exactly  so;  that  will  do  for  the  present;  and 
of  the  future  we  know  juat  as  much  as  yourself.  Well,  now 
to  be  brief,  I  wish  you  to  state,  in  the  first  place,  what  has 
become  of  the  father  of  Viola  ?" 

"  Well,  sir,  suppose  I  refuse  to  do  so  ?" 

"  Then  you  will  leave  the  impression  on  our  minds  that 
he  has  been  foully  dealt  with — or,  in  plainer  language, 
murdered  !'* 

*' Well?"  said  the  Count,  making  an  effort  to  appear 
calm  and  indifferent. 

"Well,"  replied  Harley,  *' in  that  case,  though  he  was 
my  enemy,  I  shall  take  every  means  in  my  power  to  hare 
you  brought  to  justice." 

"But  suppose  I  tell  you  he  is  imprisoned?" 

15 


174  VIOLA, 


"  Then  you  must  inform  us  how  he  can  be  liberated." 

"  Well,  let  us  understand  each  other,"  pursued  the  Count. 
*'  Suppose  I  comply  with  all  your  demands — what  am  I  to 
get  in  return?" 

"Your  liberty." 

"  When  ?  and  in  what  manner  ?" 

"  You  shall  be  set  free  after  we  are  gone.  This,  Sir 
Count,  is  much  better  than  you  deserve ;  but  as  it  would  be 
rather  troublesome  to  bring  you  to  justice,  and  remain  as  a 
witness  myself,  if  you  will  comply  with  all  our  demands, 
and  take  a  solemn  oath  not  to  seek  to  molest  us  after  we 
are  gone,  you  shall  be  restored  to  liberty." 

"And  if  I  refuse  ?" 

"  You  will  be  kept  here  a  prisoner ;  and  one  of  us,  at 
least,  shall  remain  as  your  jailor." 

"  But  I  cannot  long  remain  a  prisoner  here — for  my 
servants,  if  no  others,  when  once  they  learn  the  outrage 
that  has  been  perpetrated  upon  me,  will  break  in,  over- 
power you,  and  set  me  free." 

"  But  we  will  take  care,  my  dear  sir,  that  your  servants 
learn  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Harley. 

"  You  cannot  keep  the  knowledge  from  them ;  they  will 
suspect  there  is  something  wrong,  if  I  do  not  make  my  ap- 
pearance in  the  course  of  the  day." 

"  Then  to  settle  the  matter  in  a  few  words,"  returned 
Harley,  producing  his  revolver,  "let  me  assure  you,  M. 
D'Estang,  that  we  are  armed  to  the  teeth — that  the  first 
that  enters  will  be  shot  down  like  a  dog — and  that  the  mo- 
ment we  have  reason  to  think  we  may  be  overpowered,  that 
moment  a  ball  shall  be  lodged  in  your  lordship's  brain !" 

The  Count  bit  his  lip  again,  and  seemed  to  reflect. 

"Well,"  he  said  at  length,  "I  like  your  candor,  at  all 
events :  now  say  what  you  require  of  me  ?" 


A   NOBLE    PRISONER.  175 

"  First,  that  Mr.  St.  Auburn,  if  imprisoned,  shall  be  set 
at  liberty :  secondly,  that  you  shall  suffer  yourself  to  take 
his  place  till  after  our  departure  :  thirdly,  that  you  will 
give  written  orders  to  your  servants  to  furnish  us  with  four 
good  horses,  and  permit  us  to  leave  your  grounds  unmo- 
lested :  and  fourthly,  that  you  will  swear,  by  all  you  hold 
sacred,  never  again  to  molest  us." 

Again  the  Count  reflected ;  but  he  evidently  saw  no  bet- 
ter way  of  getting  out  of  a  bad  predicament ;  while  the 
idea  probably  occurred  to  him,  that  by  assenting  to  Harley's 
proposals,  something  might  happen  to  give  him  the  ascen- 
dency ;  he  therefore  rejoined : 

"Well,  sir,  as  I  cannot  do  better,  I  concede  your  de- 
mands,— but  first  tell  me  in  what  manner  I  shall  gain  my 
liberty  ?" 

"After  we  have  been  gone  a  reasonable  time,"  replied 
Harley,  "  I  will  despatch  a  note  to  one  of  your  porters, 
informing  him  of  your  confinement." 

"  But  what  security  have  I  that  you  will  not  play  me 
false?" 

"  The  word  of  a  gentleman." 

"Well,"  sneered  the  Count,  "that  may  do  very  well  in 
some  cases ;  but  even  you,  sir,  must  admit,  it  is  not  tau" 
gible  security." 

"It  is  all  I  have  to  offer,"  returned  Harley,  haughtily; 
"  and  if  you  do  not  choose  to  accept  of  it — why,  we  will  en- 
deavor to  manage  the  business  without  your  assistance." 

"Nay,  my  friend — " 

"Hold!"  cried  Harley,  almost  fiercely;  "do  not  presume, 
sir,  to  apply  the  term  of  friend  to  me  —  I  detest  such  hy- 
pocrisy !  I  am  your  enemy,  henceforth  and  forever,  and 
will  trouble  you  to  bear  it  in  mind." 

The  pale  features  of  the  Count  flushed,  his  eyes  flashed. 


176  VIOLA. 


he  bit  his  lips,  and  would  doubtless  have  burst  forth  in  a 
torrent  of  invectives,  had  not  policy  kept  him  silent. 

"Do  you  agree  to  ray  conditions?"  demanded  Harley, 
at  length  ;  "  yes  or  no  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Count. 

"  Very  well — let  us  proceed  directly  to  business.  First 
:.n  order  are  the  written  directions  to  your  servants." 

"  Yes,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  send  for  pen,  ink,  and 
paper." 

"  It  is  unnecessary,  sir,  even  if  the  articles  were  not  to 
be  found  in  your  cabinet  of  curiosities  up  stairs  ;  for  I  have 
paper  in  my  box,  and  a  pencil  will  answer  our  purpose  as 
well  as  a  pen;"  and  going  to  his  box,  Harley  produced  a 
torn  blank  sheet. 

"I  must  have  the  use  of  my  arms,"  said  the  Count. 

"  One  will  do,  sir  ;  but  first  we  will  ascertain  what  other 
arms  you  have;"  and  Harley  proceeded  to  search  the 
Count — finding  on  his  person  a  brace  of  pistols,  and  a 
"Bowie,"  which  he  took  from  him. 

We  then  released  the  Count's  right  arm,  and,  placing  him 
on  a  sofa,  drew  a  table  up  to  him,  so  that  he  could  write 
without  difficulty.  He  affected  no  hesitation;  but  taking 
the  pencil  of  my  friend,  wrote  some  three  or  four  lines  in 
French,  signed  his  name  at  the  bottom,  and  handed  the 
paper  to  Harley.  The  moment  the  latter  glanced  over  it, 
a  dark,  malignant  expression,  such  as  I  had  never  before 
seen  him  exhibit,  swept  over  his  countenance  ;  and  slowly 
producing  one  of  the  Count's  pistols,  he  pointed  it  at  the 
head  of  his  lordship,  and  said,  in  a  deep,  severe  tone  : 

"  Villain  !  I  have  a  mind  to  make  this  treachery  your 
last!" 

Anne  uttered  a  scream  of  terror. 

"  Hold  !  Morton  !"  I  cried,  in  a  tone  of  alarm ;  while  the 
Count  fairly  turned  livid  with  fear,  and,  with  his  eyes  sink- 


A  NOBLE   PRISONER.  177 

ing  under  Harley's  fierce  gaze,  trembled  in  every  limb : 
"  Hold  !  Morton  ! — for  the  love  of  Heaven  do  no  murder 
here !"  I  continued,  taking  the  weapon  from  his  hands, 
though  he  still  kept  his  eyes  fixed  piercingly  on  the  Count. 
*'  What  has  he  done,  Morton  ?  Speak  !  what  has  he  done  ?" 
and  I  repeated  the  question  several  times  before  I  got  an 
answer. 

"Done?"  cried  Harley,  at  length,  fiercely, — "read  for 
yourself,  Harry  ?"  and  he  held  forth  the  paper.  "  But  I 
forgot,"  he  added — "you  do  not  understand  French — so  1 
will  translate  it." 

And  he  read : 

"  /  aw  a  prisoner  in  the  tower  ;  secure  the  hearers  of 
this;  let  no  one  leave  the  Ville,  on  pain  of  death,  and 
come  instantly  to  my  release, 

"  D'ESTANG." 

"  He  fancied,  the  knave !  that  neither  of  us  understood 
French,"  added  Harley. 

I  gave  vent  to  my  indignation  in  no  very  measured 
terms. 

"  He  will  rewrite  the  order,"  pursued  Harley,  sternly, 
again  fixing  his  eyes  piercingly  on  the  Count ;  "  and  the 
very  next  time  he  attempts  to  play  us  false,  will  be  the  last. 
In  English,  Monsieur  D'Estang !"  he  added,  pushing  the 
paper  to  him. 

The  Count  again  wrote;  but,  in  spite  of  himself,  his 
hand  trembled.  The  second  note,  after  perusing,  Harley 
handed  to  me.     It  read  : 

"  Let  the  hearers  of  this,  my  particular  friends,  he  pro* 
vided  with  four  good  horses,  and  he  permitted  to  leave  the 
Ville  without  question  or  hindrance.        D'ESTANG." 

15* 


178  VIOLA. 


"  That  will  do,  I  think,"  I  said. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Harlej,  "for  Mr.  St.  Auburn. 
Where  is  he.  Sir  Count  ?" 

"He  is  imprisoned  in  this  tower,  below  us,"  replied 
D'Estang. 

"  You  must  show  us  the  way,  sir." 

The  Count  looked  down  at  his  limbs. 

"  We  will  refasten  your  arms,  and  release  your  legs," 
pursued  Harley.  "  I  can  do  this,  Harry — will  you  favor 
me  by  calling  Viola?" 

I  hastened  to  the  chamber  above. 

"Well?"  cried  the  beautiful  maiden,  eagerly.  "Oh! 
Mr.  Walton,  I  have  been  so  terrified  !" 

"Be  not  so  any  longer  then,  fair  lady,"  I  replied — "for 
we  have  succeeded  beyond  our  expectations." 

"Is  Morton  safe?" 

"Yes,  and  the  Count  a  prisoner;"  and  I  hurriedly  nar- 
rated what  had  happened,  adding ;  "  Come,  we  are  about 
to  visit  your  father,  and  set  you  all  free."     , 

She  wept  for  joy. 

On  reaching  the  lower  chamber,  Viola  flew  to  Harley, 
threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  sobbed  upon  his  breast. 

"  Cheer  up,  my  love!"  he  said:  "God  is  with  us,  and 
we  triumph. — Come,  dearest — we  will  free  you,  and  your 
father,  from  the  clutches  of  a  demon  incarnate ;  and  then 
if  he  does  not  sanction  our  union,  he  is  incapable  of  grati- 
tude, and  we  must  act  without  him." 

As  soon  as  Viola  could  subdue  her  emotions,  so  as  to 
appear  composed,  Harley  bade  her  follow  with  me ;  and 
then  placing  his  hand  on  the  Count's  shoulder,  who  was 
now  standing  by,  with  his  arms  bound,  but  his  legs  un- 
fettered, he  said : 

"  Now,  sir,  show  us  the  secret  passage  to  your  prisoner." 

"  But  Anne,"  I  interposed — "  shall  we  leave  her  here?" 


A   NOBLE   PRISONER.  179 

"  Ah  !  I  had  nearly  overlooked  her !  No,  she  must  go 
with  us." 

I  soon  cut  the  cords  that  bound  her  feet ;  and  then  the 
Count,  without  a  word,  proceeded  to  the  secret  passage 
leading  to  the  upper  chamber,  Harlej  keeping  close  to 
him,  with  a  revolver  in  his  hand. 

"  Here,"  said  the  count,  on  reaching  the  foot  oi  the 
stairway  ;  "  underneath  me  is  a  trap  door  ;  and  a  little  to 
the  right,  there,  you  will  find  a  spring — press  that,  and  it 
will  open." 

Harley  stooped  down,  the  count  stepped  aside,  and  in  a 
moment  the  trap  was  raised,  and  a  blast  of  cool  air  came 
up  from  the  darkness  below. 

"  We  must  have  a  light,"  said  Harley.  ^ 

1  had  seen  a  lantern  in  the  little  room  above,  and  I 
hastened  to  get  it.  Harley  took  it,  and  after  peering  down 
into  the  darkness,  swung  it  on  his  arm,  fixed  his  left  hand 
firmly  in  the  cords  that  bound  the  count,  and  placing  his 
revolver  to  the  breast  of  the  latter,  said,  in  a  determined 
tone : 

"  A  single  attempt  at  treachery.  Count,  and  you  are  a 
dead  man." 

He  then  began  to  descend  the  steep,  narrow  stairs,  keep- 
ing a  firm  hold  of  D'Estang — Viola  followed  next — and  I 
brought  up  the  rear  with. Anne. 

So  we  went  down  to  the  dungeon  of  the  tower. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

A  DISCLOSURE. 

We  descended  two  long,  narrow  flights  of  stairs,  which 
brought  us  one  story  below  the  level  of  the  earth.  What 
the  ground  apartment  of  the  tower  contained,  I  do  not 
know,  for  we  did  not  enter  it,  but  kept  outside  in  the  secret 
passage.  At  the  foot  of  the  second  descent,  we  came  to 
an  iron  door,  which,  on  being  opened  by  the  Count's  di- 
rections, admitted  us  to  a  small  apartment,  walled  in  with 
heavy  stones,  and  paved  with  flags.  An  iron  lamp  was 
attached  to  the  ceiling  by  a  chain,  so  as  to  be  lowered  or 
raised.  We  lowered  and  lighted  it,  which  enabled  us  to 
see  very  distinctly.  Nothing  particularly  attracted  our 
attention,  save  three  iron  doors,  two  of  which  were  close 
together  on  the  side  opposite  our  entrance,  and  the  other 
occupied  a  central  position  in  the  wall  to  the  right.  While 
looking  around  us,  we  heard  something  like  a  groan, 
though  either  distant,  muffled,  or  feeble,  we  could  not  tell 
which. 

"  Come,"  said  Harley,  who  still  retained  his  hold  upon 
the  Count,  "  I  suppose  that  sound  proceeds  from  your  vic- 
tim— show  us  to  him  !" 

"  This  way  ;"  and  the  Count  advanced  to  one  of  the  two 
doors  near  together,  while  we  all  eagerly  followed,  Viola 
faintly  murmuring ; 

"  My  father  !   my  poor  father  !" 

"  The  key  hangs  by  the  door,"  said  the  Count. 

Harley  found  it,  and  soon  had  the  door  open,  disclosing 

(180) 


A  DISCLOSURE.  181 


a  small  crypt,  with  a  grated  door  between  us  and  the  pri- 
soner. The  open  space  between  the  two  doors  had  some 
connection  with  the  chamber  above,  and  was  doubtless  con- 
trived to  admit  air  to  the  tenant  of  the  cell,  for  there 
appeared  to  be  no  other  means  of  ventilation. 

"  Here,  Harry,"  said  Harley,  "  take  charge  of  the 
Count,  while  I  set  free  the  prisoner." 

I  laid  my  hand  on  D'Estang,  and  Harley  entered  the 
crypt  with  his  lantern.  The  grated  door  was  secured  by 
bolts,  that  could  easily  be  removed  from  without.  In  less 
than  a  minute,  I  heard  my  friend  say  : 

"Henry  St.  Auburn,  you  are  free." 

"  What  means  this  ?  to  whom  am  I  indebted  for  this 
liberation  ?"  said  a  voice  from  within. 
*  "Your  daughter  will  explain  all,"  replied  Harley  ;  "  she 
is  without  here — come;"  and  the  next  moment  Harley 
reappeared,  followed  by  a  man  some  forty-five  or  fifty 
years  of  age,  with  iron-gray  hair,  a  rather  robust  frame, 
and  strongly  marked  features. 

I  had  only  time  to  observe  this  much,  when  Viola,  with 
a  cry  of  "Father!  dear,  dear  father!"  sprang  forward, 
threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  wept  upon  his  breast. 

"  Will  some  one  be  so  good  as  to  explain  the  meaning 
of  all  this  ?"  said  St.  Auburn,  looking  from  one  to  the 
other,  with  an  air  of  perplexity,  but  exhibiting  less  affec- 
tion for  his  daughter  than  was  consonant  with  my  feelings. 

"It  means,  dear  father,"  replied  Viola,  looking  up  into 
his  face,  with  her  beautiful  arms  still  clasped  around  his  neck, 
"  that  the  man  you  have  thought  your  friend,  has  proved 
himself  your  enemy ;  and  that  the  man  you  have  considered 
your  enemy,  has  proved  himself  your  friend." 

"  I  know  who  has  proved  himself  my  enemy,"  rejoined 
St,  Auburn,  looking  fiercely  at  the  Count,  who  stood  pale 

12 


182  VIOLA. 


and  silent,  biting  his  lips  ;  "  but  who  is  he  that  has  proved 
himself  my  friend,  in  this  hour  of  need  ?" 

"Behold  him!"  said  Viola,  pointing  to  Harley,  M'ho, 
with  his  arms  folded  on  his  breast,  stood  near,  calmly,  but 
somewhat  sternly,  regarding  St.  Auburn. 

"  Sir,  you  are  a  stranger  to  me,  but — "  began  St. 
Auburn,  looking  at  Harley,  who  interrupted : 

"  Nay,  sir,  I  am  no  stranger,  but  one  too  well  known  ;" 
and  with  the  words  he  removed  his  wig,  mustache,  and  whis- 
kers, adding:  "You  recognize  me  now,  Mr.  St.  Auburn?" 

"  Ha  I  Harley !"  cried  St.  Auburn,  with  a  start,  chang- 
ing countenance. 

*'  Yes,  a  despised  Harley,*'  returned  my  friend,  with  not 
a  little  asperity. 

"I  do  not  understand  this,"  said  St.  Auburn,  with  an 
air  of  wonder. 

"  This  way,  father,  I  will  explain  all,"  returned  Viola, 
quickly ;  and  she  drew  St.  Auburn  aside,  and  spoke  to  him 
hurriedly,  for  a  few  minutes,  in  a  low  tone. 

The  Count  regarded  the  two,  while  they  were  conversing 
apart,  with  a  peculiar  expression.  His  brows  contracted, 
a  sneer  played  around  his  mouth,  and  once  or  twice  he 
seemed  on  the  point  of  speaking,  but  withheld  the  utter- 
ance and  remained  silent. 

At  length  St.  Auburn  advanced  to  Harley,  and  proffered 
his  hand. 

"Sir!  Mr.  Harley,"  he  said,  "I  feel  I  have  done  you 
great  injustice.     My  daughter — " 

"  Bah !"  sneered  D'Estang :  "  Speak  the  truth  and 
ehame  the  Father  of  Lies  ! — you  know  she  is  not  your 
daughter." 

"Not  his  daughter  ?"  exclaimed  Harley,  catcbing  at  the 
word:     "Not  his  daughter.  Count  D'Estang?'' 

"No !  she  is  not  his  daughter." 


A  DISCLOSURE.  183 


"  Silence  !"  interposed  St.  Auburn,  fiercely. 

"Nay,  speak  !"  cried  Harley,  while  we  all  stood  breath- 
less with  surprise.  "  Speak  !  Count — you  shall  be  heard. 
I  know  he  has  not  treated  her  as  a  father  should  treat  a 
daughter — but  still  I  knew  not  that  she  is  not  his  own  flesh 
and  blood." 

"Look  at  the  two — do  you  see  any  resemblance?" 
said  D'Estang,  with  another  sneer. 

"  But  that  goes  for  nothing,  Count,  unless  you  have 
other  proof,"  replied  Harley. 

"  Silence,  villain !"  cried  St.  Auburn,  looking  fiercely  at 
the  Count.     "  Dare  to  open  your  vile  lips — " 

"  Hold  !"  interrupted  Harley ;  "  I  am  master  nere,  and 
the  Count  shall  have  a  hearing." 

"  Oh !  what  new  and  fearful  mystery  in  this  ?"  nOTf 
cried  Viola,  looking  from  one  to  the  other  for  explanation. 

"  She  is  not  his  daughter,"  persisted  D'Estang,  "  and  he 
knows  it.  The  secret  he  made  known  to  me  for  a  consi- 
deration ;  but  since  I  am  foiled,  he  shall  no  longer  have  the 
advantage  of  it." 

"  Is  this  true,  father  ?  is  this  true  ?"  cried  Viola,  ad- 
dressing St.  Auburn. 

"  Believe  it  not,  Viola — it  is  an  invention  of  his  own," 
replied  St.  Auburn,  not  a  little  agitated. 

"Look  at  his  face,  and  be  your  own  judges,"  rejoined 
D'Estang. 

Harley  now  took  Viola  aside,  and  held  a  short  confer- 
ence with  her ;  then  he  returned  to  the  group,  and  she 
remained  apart. 

"  This  is  all  very  strange,  and  I  should  like  a  clearing  up 
of  the  mystery,"  he  said,  addressing  the  Count. 

"And  I  can  give  it  in  a  few  words,"  replied  D'Estang. 
**  Henry  St.  Auburn  had  a  daughter — " 

"  Mr.  Harley,"  interrupted  St.  Auburn,  "  that  he  who 


184  VIOLA. 


passes  for  Count  D'Estang  is  a  villain  of  the  worst  type,  1 
think  jou  have  already  had  sufficient  evidence ;  and  if  the 
tale  of  my  disgrace  must  be  told,  let  it  come  from  my  lips." 

"  Say  on  then  !"  returned  Harley. 

*'Not  here,  Mr.  Harley — not  here.  Set  me  at  liberty, 
and  I  swear  to  you,  you  shall  have  the  truth,  and  the 
benefit  of  the  truth.  D'Estang  knows  only  what  I  have 
told  him,  and  he  has  already  abused  my  confidence.  Since 
matters  have  gone  so  far,  I  may  as  well  state,  that  she 
who  is  called  Viola  St.  Auburn,  is  not  my  daughter,  and 
that  whoever  weds  her  will  wed  an  heiress  of  great  wealth. 
This  is  the  true  reason  why  Monsieur  D'Estang  has  sought 
to  force  her  into  an  alliance  with  himself." 

"  To  accomplish  which  vile  measure,  you  scrupled  not  to 
lend  your  assistance,"  rejoined  Harley. 

*'In  part,  Mr.  Harley,  I  confess;  but  that  I  refused 
to  second  all  his  base  plans,  my  imprisonment  here  is  proof 
sufficient." 

*'  Did  you  not  force  her  to  come  hither,  with  no  other 
motive  than  to  marry  her  to  D'Estang?" 

"I  persuaded  her  to  come,  in  the  hope  that  I  could 
prevail  upon  her  to  give  him  her  hand  in  marriage,  though 
I  was  not  then  aware  of  his  being  such  a  villain,"  replied 
St.  Auburn. 

"As  for  villany,  I  fear  there  is  not  much  to  choose 
between  you,"  replied  Harley,  sternly.  "  You,  at  least,  I 
know  of  old  ;  and  it  will  require  much  at  your  hands, 
to  cause  me  to  overlook  your  treatment  of  my  father,  or 
your  insults  to  me  personally — more  especially,  since  your 
own  lips  have  informed  me  you  are  not  the  father  of  Viola." 

"I  trust,  Mr.  Harley,"  replied  St.  Auburn,  with  a  penitent 
look,  "  you  will  not  recall  the  past ;  and  for  the  future — " 

"He  will  be  as  great  a  villain  as  ever."  chimed  in 
D'Estang,  interrupting  him.     "Put  no  faith  in  what  h^ 


A   DISCLOSURE.  185 


says,  Mr.  Harley — for  the  penitence  he  now  exhibits, 
proceeds  from  fear,  not  regret.  He  is  a  villain,  without 
manhood — a  base,  paltry  coward,  who  will  fawn  when  he  is 
in  your  power,  and  bite  when  you  are  in  his." 

On  hearing  this,  St.  Auburn  raised  his  clenched  hand, 
and  aimed  a  blow  at  the  Count,  which  I  parried. 

"  Would  you  strike  a  defenceless  man  ?"  cried  I,  indig- 
nantly ;  "  do  you  not  see  that  D'Estang  is  bound  ?" 

'*  Attempt  the  like  again,"  said  Harley,  fiercely,  grasping 
the  ;rm  of  St.  Auburn,  "  and  you  shall  back  to  your 
dungeon." 

"I  crave  pardon  I  I  was  rash,"  returned  St.  Auburn, 
cowering. 

"You  see  !"  said  D'Estang— "I  spoke  the  truth." 

*' Silence  !"  commanded  Harley;  "and  let  recrimination 
cease  !  And  now,  Mr.  St.  Auburn,  speak  the  truth,  and 
say  for  what  reason  you  were  imprisoned  here." 

"I  was  about  to  do  so,"  replied  the  other.  "It  was 
because  I  would  not  consent  to  force  Viola  to  wed  this 
man,"  pointing  to  D'Estang.  "Base  as  I  am,  I  never  in- 
tended to  exercise  over  her  any  power  beyond  earnest 
entreaty.  I  told  her  she  might  choose  between  him  and  a 
convent ;  and  I  would  have  made  my  word  good,  and  re- 
moved her  ere  this,  had  I  not  been  decoyed  to  this  dungeon, 
and  thrust  into  that  cell  by  force.  I  will  not  deny  that 
my  motive  in  bringing  her  here  was  so  far  base,  that  I  was 
to  receive  a  certain  sum  of  money  the  moment  she  should 
become  his  bride ;  but  when,  after  getting  her  here,  I 
found  how  repugnant  it  was  to  her  feelings  to  think  of 
wedding  such  a  man,  even  to  be  mistress  of  all  he  owns, 
I  resolved  to  take  her  away  at  any  sacrifice.  The  world 
has  not  gone  well  with  me,  Mr.  Harley.  Not  long  since  I 
lost  a  fortune,  and  a  wife  that  I  prized  above  every  thing 
earthly.     Circumstances  made  me  desperate.     In  an  evil 

16 


186  VIOLA. 


hour  I  met  Monsieur  D'Estang,  and  the  bargain  and  sale 
was  consummated,  in  so  much  that  it  only  required  the  con- 
sent of  Viola  to  make  the  contract  effective.  That  I 
acted  right  in  doing  as  I  have  done,  I  do  not  pretend  to  say 
— but  I  am  not  more  guilty  than  I  have  made  appear." 

"  But  why  did  you  wish  Viola  to  marry  the  Count  in  the 
first  place  ?"  inquired  Harley. 

"  Because  I  then  thought  him  a  gentleman  ;  and  because, 
also,  he  pledged  himself  to  pay  me  twenty  thousand  doUara 
on  her  wedding-day.  I  had  a  contract  to  this  effect,  which 
he  has  since  taken  from  me." 

"  And  when  this  contract  was  entered  into,  did  he  know 
that  she  is  not  your  daughter?" 

*'  Yes,  I  had  previously  told  him  the  secret  of  her 
parentage." 

"And  who,  sir,  are  my  parents?"  cried  Viola,  in  no 
little  agitation,  she  having  drawn  close  to  the  speaker 
without  being  observed. 

"  I  thank  Heaven  that  St.  Auburn  is  not  one  of  them  !" 
rejoined  Harley.  "  But,  dearest  Viola,  you  were  to  remain 
apart,"  he  continued,  chidingly. 

"But  think  you,  Morton,  I  have  no  interest  in  this 
matter?" 

"  Great  interest,  my  dear  Viola ;  but  I  would  have 
reported  all  to  you." 

*'  Nay,  Morton,  I  pray  you  let  me  hear  for  myself." 

Harley  assented,  and  again  addressed  himself  to  St. 
Auburn. 

"  What  motive  had  the  Count  for  binding  himself  to  give 
you  so  large  a  sum  on  the  day  that  Viola  should  become 
his  wife?"  • 

"  I  have  said  that  she  is  an  heiress  to  great  wealth,'* 
was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  and  if  so,  why  did  you  sell  her  for  such  a  sum  ? 


A    DISCLOSURE.  187 


Why  did  you  not  make  known  to  her  her  history,  and  trust 
to  her  generosity  to  reward  you?" 

"  To  tell  you  the  plain  truth,  Mr.  Harley,  I  knew  she 
was  engaged  to  you  ;  and  I  feared,  if  she  became  possessed 
of  the  secret  of  her  birth,  she  would  spurn  my  control,  and 
place  herself  and  fortune  wholly  in  your  hands." 

"  Ah !  sir,  (I  cannot  call  you  father,  since  you  disown 
the  tie  of  consanguinity,)  how  much  you  mistake  my 
nature,"  returned  Viola,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears.  "  Had 
you  made  me  a  confidant  instead  O'f  another,  and  consented 
to  my  wedding  the  man  of  my  choice,  I  would  have  placed 
my  fortune,  whatever  it  may  be,  at  your  disposal." 

"It  is  only  another  instance  of  villany  overreaching 
itself,"  rejoined  Harley,  in  a  severe  tone. 

"But  tell  me,  sir — oh!  tell  me  who  I  am?"  pursued 
Viola,  with  great  emotion.  "  Oh !  I  am  bewildered — I 
know  not  what  to  think,  or  how  to  act !  And  is  it  possible 
that  she  I  so  loved,  and  called  by  the  endearing  title  of 
mother — is  it  possible  she  was  no  kin  of  mine  ?  and  could 
she  have  known  this,  and  never  have  told  me  ?" 

"My  poor  Mary!"  returned  St.  Auburn,  not  a  little 
aflfected  :  "  She  was  indeed  no  kin  to  you,  Viola ;  but  she 
knew  it  not ;  she  believed  to  the  last  you  were  her  daughter." 

"  Oh  !  this  is  a  fearful  mystery,  sir  !"  continued  Viola  ; 
"  I  pray  you  make  it  clear  !  Tell  me — oh  !  sir,  tell  me — 
who  are  my  parents  ?  are  they  living  ?  and*  how  came  I 
estranged  from  them  ?     Perhaps — " 

She  paused — a  wild  troubled  expression  swept  over  her 
beautiful  features — a  cold  shudder  seemed  to  pass  through 
her  frame — and  placing  her  hand  upon  her  heart,  as  if  to 
still  its  throbbings,  she  fairly  gasped  for  breath. 

"Viola!  dear,  dearest  Viola !"  cried  Harley,  springing 
to  and  supporting  her  with  his  arm;  "what  means  this 
agitation  ?" 


188  VIOLA. 

"You  at  least  have  nothing  to  blush  for,"  said  St. 
Auburn,  who  appeared  to  understand  what  she  wished  yet 
feared  to  know. 

On  hearing  this,  Viola  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief,  and 
murmured  : 

"  Thank  Heaven  !  thank  Heaven  !" 

**  Come  !"  said  Harlej,  gently  drawing  her  aside  again — 
"  you  must  no  longer  be  a  listener,  Viola — the  subject 
too  deeply  interests  you.  Leave  all  to  me,  dearest— leave 
all  to  me  ;"  and  after  a  few  more  words  with  her,  he 
returned  to  St.  Auburn,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone  :  "  I  beg, 
sir,  that  you  will  put  me  in  possession  of  the  facts  of  this 
business  at  once !" 

"Not  here,"  was  the  reply:  "set  me  at  liberty,  and  I 
will." 

"But  you  may  break  your  word,  when  you  no  longer 
have  anything  to  gain  by  the  disclosure.  I  might  have 
known  nothing  now,  only  for  the  Count." 

"You  would  in  time,  Mr.  Harley;  but  I  should  have 
made  my  own  terms  for  the  secret." 

"And  what  would  have  been  your  terms  ?" 

"  The  same  as  agreed  to  by  this  treacherous  Frenchman.'* 

"  It  is  a  large  sum,  but  I  do  not  wish  to  take  any  undue 
advantage  of  you.  Prove  what  you  have  asserted,  and,  I 
pledge  you  the  honor  of  a  gentleman,  you  shall  have  the 
amount  named." 

"Ah!  sir,"  cried  St.  Auburn,  rapturously,  "you  are  a 
true  gentleman,  I  see ;  I  was  mistaken  in  you ;  your  hand, 
Mr.  Harley." 

"  Pardon  me !"  returned  my  friend,  drawing  himself  up 
with  an  air  of  reserve.  "  I  am  a  little  peculiar  in  some 
respects ;  and  one  of  my  peculiarities  is,  that  I  only  give 
my  hand  where  I  can  give  my  heart.     This  is  merely  a 


A   DISOCLSURE.  189 


business  transaction,  Mr.  St.  Auburn.     There  is  not,  there 
never  can  be,  any  friendship  between  us." 

The  countenance  of  St.  Auburn  fell ;  while  the  Count 
chimed  in,  with  a  curl  of  his  thin  lips : 

**  Ay,  keep  him  at  a  safe  distance,  Mr.  Harley." 

"Well,  free  me  from  this  hateful  confinement,"  rejoined 
St.  Auburn,  quickly — "  take  me  from  the  presence  of  my 
treacherous  confederate  here,  (pointing  to  D'Estang,  who 
only  smiled  scornfully,)  and  T  will  keep  my  word  with  you." 

"  I  owe  you  this  much,"  said  Harley ;  "  because,  however 
vile  your  intentions  were,  you  used  no  actual  force  with 
Viola.  Were  it  otherwise,  sir,  you  should  now  be  punished 
according  to  your  deserts." 

"  Give  not  to  so  vile  a  man  the  sum  named,"  interposed 
D'Estang.  "  As  to  his  secret,  it  is  in  my  possession,  Mr. 
Harley ;  and  if  you  wish,  you  shall  have  it  for  the  asking. 
I  would  at  least  do  this  much  to  revenge  myself  on  him 
for  his  insults — since,  at  present,  it  is  not  in  my  power  to 
do  more." 

"  But  he  has  not  the  proofs,"  said  St.  Auburn,  eagerly; 
"  and  what  is  the  secret  without  proof  to  support  it  ?  I 
can  prove  Viola  to  be  what  I  assert — but — " 

"  And  where  are  these  proofs  ?"  interrupted  Harley. 

"  Not  here,  I  assure  you.  No,  I  determined,  for  fear  of 
treachery,  to  retain  a  hold  upon  the  interest  of  D'Estang, 
till  he  should  fulfil  his  part  of  the  agreement." 

"  Bah  !  what  matters  proofs,  when  the  secret  is  divulged  ?" 
sneered  the  Count. 

"  Hold  !"  said  Harley.  "  To  save  further  discussion  of 
the  matter,  let  me  assure  you  both  that  I  shall  keep  my 
word.  If  St.  Auburn  does  what  he  says  he  will  do,  he 
shall  have  the  amount  named,  whether  the  secret  is  divulged 
by  another  or  not.  I  have  pledged  my  honor  to  this,  and 
I  trust  I  am  too  much  of  a  gentleman  not  to  redeem  it." 

IB* 


190  VIOLA. 


"  You  can  do  as  you  like,"  returned  D'Estang,  tartly, 
biting  his  lips. 

"  Thank  you  for  the  permission,'*  rejoined  my  friend, 
drily.  "  And  now,  Monsieur  le  Capitaine,  I  will  trouble 
you  to  tell  me  what  the  door  next  to  this  cell  conceals  ?" 

"Another  cell  like  it." 

"Very  good;  then  there  is  one  for  you,  and  one  for 
Mistress  Anne  here." 

"  Oh !  sir,  are  you  going  to  imprison  me  also  ?"  cried 
Anne. 

"Yes,"  replied  Harley,  abruptly;  and  going  to  the  door 
in  question,  he  took  down  the  key  which  hung  by  it,  and 
opened  it.  Then  approaching  Anne,  he  whispered  some- 
thing in  her  ear ;  and  without  a  word,  she  followed  him  in- 
to the  inner  cell.  "Be  not  alarmed,"  I  heard  him  say  to 
her  ;  "your  kind  master  will  doubtless  release  you  the  mo- 
ment he  regains  his  own  liberty;"  and  coming  out,  he 
locked  the  heavy  iron  door,  and  returned  the  key  to  its 
place.  "  And  now,"  he  added,  addressing  the  Count, 
"  your  lordship  will  be  so  good  as  to  take  the  place  of  your 
late  prisoner.  It  is  very  unpleasant,  I  doubt  not ;  but  no 
frowns,  good  my  lord,  for  it  must  be  so." 

The  Count  bit  his  lip ;  and  as  he  turned  to  enter  the  dun- 
geon, muttered  something  in  a  low  tone. 

"  By-the-by,"  said  Harley,  tapping  him  on  the  shoulder, 
"  I  suppose  that  other  door,  yonder,  opens  into  the  secret 
passage  under  ground,  by  which  you  sometimes  enter  and 
leave  this  very  agreeable  abode  ?" 

"  Well  ?"  said  D'Estang,  turning  upon  him  quickly,  his 
black  eyes  gleaming  with  suppressed  rage. 

"  Oh,  that  is  all,"  returned  Harley,  coolly.  "If  I  had 
time,  I  should  like  to  explore  it,  but  shall  put  off  that  plea- 
sure for  the  present.  Be  a  little  cautious,  Monsieur  le 
Capitaine,  or  I  may  take  the  liberty  to  return  with  a  few 


A   DISCLOSURE.  191 


individuals  who  will  be  even  more  curious  in  looking  over 
your  Ville  than  I  have  been." 

*' But  I  thought,"  said  the  Count,  turning  pale,  "that 
there  was  a  certain  agreement  between  us,  that — " 

"  Oh,  never  fear,  sir,  but  I  will  keep  my  word,"  inter- 
rupted Harley.  "  I  am  only  giving  you  a  little  caution, 
lest  you  should  break  yours.  Remember,  you  are  not  to 
seek  to  molest  us ;"  and  Harley  fixed  his  eyes  upon  D'Es- 
tang  with  an  expression  that  said  more  than  his  language. 
"  That  will  do,"  he  continued :  "  we  understand  each  other, 
I  think.  Be  kind  enough  to  step  in  there  now — for  time 
passes,  and  we  would  be  on  the  road  without  more  delay." 

Having  secured  the  Count  as  it  were  in  his  own  trap, 
locked  both  doors,  and  returned  the  key  to  its  place,  Har- 
ley approached  St.  Auburn,  and  said  : 

"  Now,  sir,  as  I  am  about  to  set  you  free,  which  is  more 
than  you  deserve,  and  as  it  is  very  uncertain  what  may 
happen  after  you  regain  your  liberty,  I  wish  you  to  state 
who  are  the  parents  of  Viola — where  they  can  be  found,  if 
living — how  she  came  to  be  brought  up  as  your  daughter — 
in  short,  say  all  you  know  concerning  her,  as  also  when  and 
where  I  can  have  the  proofs  to  which  you  have  alluded." 

"The  story  is  long,"  replied  St.  Auburn,  with  some 
hesitation  ;  "  but  I  think  I  can  satisfy  you  in  a  few  words ;" 
and  drawing  my  friend  aside,  the  two  conversed  togetiier 
for  a  few  minutes  in  a  low  tone. 

My  curiosity  was  excited  to  learn  the  secret  also ;  but 
perceiving  it  was  not  intended  for  my  ear  as  yet,  I  ap- 
proached Viola,  whom  I  found  in  tears. 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Walton,  this  mystery  makes  me  very  un- 
happy," she  said. 

I  was  saying  what  I  could  to  console  her,  when  Harley 
rejoined  us.  His  countenance  was  bright  and  animated, 
and  I  knew  by  this  he  had  heard  good  news. 


192  VIOLA. 


"Pardon  me,  my  friends,"  he  said,  taking  each  of  us  by 
the  hand,  "  that  I  do  not  now  make  you  my  confidants.  For 
a  certain  time  I  have  promised  secrecy  in  regard  to  what 
I  have  just  heard;  but  should  it  prove  true,  I  am  the  hap- 
piest of  mortals.  Cheer  up,  dear  Viola !  all,  I  trust,  will 
yet  be  well ;  but  whether  true  or  false,  my  dear  Viola,  I 
can  never  be  unhappy  while  we  are  together.  Come,  let 
us  leave  this  place  at  once,  ere  any  thing  occurs  to  pre- 
vent." 

And  he  forthwith  led  Viola  up  the  stairs,  St.  Auburn  and 
I  following 


CHAPTER    XVIIL 


THE    ESCAPE. 


On  reaching  the  second  story  of  the  tower,  Harley  said 
if  I  would  see  to  having  the  horses  got  ready,  he  would 
remain  with  Viola  till  my  return.  I  first  examined  my 
weapons,  and  then  went  out  across  the  drawbridge,  he 
locking  the  door  after  me.  In  passing  through  the  mansion, 
I  met  Pierre,  and  another  servant,  whom,  from  his  livery, 
I  supposed  to  be  the  Count's  valet  de  chamhre. 

"  I  wish  four  of  his  lordship's  best  horses  saddled  for 
the  road  immediately,  one  for  a  lady  to  ride,"  I  said,  in  a 
positive  tone.  "  Come,  why  do  you  hesitate  ?"  I  continued, 
as  both  looked  at  me  with  an  air  of  surprise. 

"  It  is  usual  for  my  lord  to  give  his  own  orders,"  re- 
plied the  valet. 

"And  so  he  does  now,"  I  rejoined,  handing  him  the  note 
"written  by  the  Count. 

He  read  it  carefully  through  a  couple  of  times,  turned 
it  over,  examined  every  part,  as  if  looking  for  some  pri- 
vate mark,  and  then  said : 

"  This  appears  to  be  correct — but — " 

"  Is  it  usual  for  you  to  hesitate,  in  this  manner,  to  obey 
a  command  of  his  lordship  ?"  interrupted  I,  sternly.  "  If 
so,  perhaps  I  had  better  let  his  lordship  know  it ;"  and  I 
turned  as  if  to  go  back  to  him. 

*'  Stay  I"  returned  the  valet,  quickly,  evidently  convinced 
by  my  manner  that  all  was  right.  "  Stay !  the  horses 
Bhall  be  got  ready  instantly :  do  not  report  me  to  his  lord- 

(193) 


194  VIOLA. 


ship, — I  will  hasten,  to  give  the  groom  orders  ;"  and  turn- 
ing on  his  heel,  he  quickly  disappeared. 

"  I  will  return  to  the  bridge — let  me  know  when  the 
horses  are  ready,"  I  said  to  Pierre;  and  immediately  sta- 
tioned myself  at  the  place  mentioned,  to  prevent  any  one 
approaching  the  tower. 

In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  heard  the  trampling  of 
horses ;  and  a  few  moments  after  the  valet  himself  ap- 
pcared  to  announce  that  the  animals  were  ready. 

As  1  turned  to  cross  the  bridge,  he  added: 

"  I  will  accompany  you  to  my  lord." 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  he  will  see  no  one  at  present — he  is  in  a 
private  apartment." 

"  Ah  !  very  well — then  I  will  ilot  intrude  upon  him. 
You  may  mention,  if  you  see  him,  that  the  gentleman  he 
expects,  will  be  here  to  dinner." 

"  If  I  see  him  again,  I  will,"  I  replied ;  and  the  valet 
went  away,  apparently  satisfied. 

Harley,  who  had  watched  my  approach  from  the  window, 
met  me  at  the  door. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  hurriedly  and  anxiously,  "  is  all  right  ?" 

"Sol  think,"  I  replied. 

"  The  horses  ?" 

"Are  waiting  their  riders.  But,  my  friend,"  I  added, 
seriously,  '^  I  think  there  is  no  time  to  lose.  I  do  not 
know  that  the  servants  are  suspicious ;  but  I  do  think  that 
the  sooner  we  get  away  the  better." 

"  Ah  I  yes  !  yes  !  Here"  he  added  in  a  whisper,  nodding 
toward  St.  Auburn,  "  remain  by  the  door  here,  and  keep  an 
eye  on  him.  Viola  is  above — I  will  call  her.  All  is  ready. 
I  have  secured  our  most  valuable  jewelry  about  me — the 
boxes  and  the  rest  we  will  leave  where  they  are." 

Saying  this,  Harley  quitted  the  chamber,  and  after  an 
absence  of  two  or  three  minutes,  returned  with  Viola,  who 


THE   ESCAPE.  195 


had  donned  her  bonnet,  and  a  riding-habit  which  she 
chanced  to  have  in  one  of  her  trunks.  The  latter,  toge- 
ther with  most  of  their  contents,  in  reality  quite  valuable, 
jhe  was  forced  to  leave — but  we  thought  not  of  such  trifles 
at  a  moment  when  our  very  safety  depended  on  a  chain  of 
fortunate  events.  When  we  were  all  ready  to  leave  the 
tower — 

"  Now,"  said  Harley,  "  we  must  appear  to  be  in  good 
spirits,  lest  the  servants  suspect  something  wrong.  If  they 
make  any  inquiries,  leave  me  to  answer  them.  Courage, 
dearest — courage  !  You  must  not  tremble  so  !  Drop  your 
veil,  and  that  will  conceal  your  blanched  cheeks  and  quiver- 
ing lips.     Take  Harry's  arm.     There!  are  you  ready?" 

"One  moment,"  said  Viola,  faintly,  and  a  shudder 
passed  through  her  frame.  "  There,"  she  added,  imme- 
diately after,  "my  nerves  are  still  again:  I  am  ready 
now." 

As  we  left  the  tower,  we  paused  a  moment  near  the  door, 
to  give  Harley  an  opportunity  to  lock  it  without  being  ob- 
served, for  we  were  aware  that  several  eyes  were  upon  us. 
We  entered  the  mansion,  moved  along  the  corridor,  went 
down  the  stairs,  and  passed  out  of  the  hall,  without  other 
incident  occurring  than  being  met  and  escorted  by  Pierre 
and  the  valet.  Harley  seemed  in  glorioux^  spirits — talk- 
ing, laughing,  and  joking  all  the  way — and  I  imitated  his 
nonchalance  as  much  as  lay  in  my  power.  He  had  not 
resumed  his  disguise ;  and  Pierre,  I  noticed,  eyed  him  a 
little  curiously ;  but,  fortunately  for  us,  the  porter  was  not 
too  sharp-sighted,  and  the  other  servants  now  beheld  him 
for  the  first  time. 

We  found  four  fine-spirited  horses  standing  in  front  of 
the  mansion,  in  charge  of  the  groom,  ready  for  mounting, 
and  all  the  servants,  even  to  the  cook,  gathered  together, 
to  see  us  depart. 


196  VIOLA. 


"  A  beautiful  day  for  a  ride,"  observed  my  friend,  care- 
lessly. "  By-the-bye,  I  did  not  ask  his  lordship  his  hour 
of  dining?" 

"  It  is  three,  sir,  usually,  when  he  has  guests,"  replied 
the  valet. 

"  Ah  !  yes— a  very  good  hour.  Well,  tell  his  lordship 
that  that  time  will  suit  us  as  well  as  any  other,  as  it  is  not 
probable  we  shall  return  before  two." 

*'  Did  his  lordship  send  any  message  concerning  the  din- 
ner ?"  inquired  the  valet. 

"No,  none — please  yourselves — we  are  not  particular 
about  the  fare." 

"  Could  I  not  see  him  a  moment?"  again  inquired  the 
valet. 

"  No,  you  had  better  not  disturb  him  for  an  hour  or 
two ;  he  is  in  privacy,  and  has  some  weighty  matters  un- 
der consideration." 

The  valet,  who  w^as  a  keen,  shrewd  fellow,  did  not,  I 
fancied,  appear  altogether  satisfied ;  but  he  said  nothing 
more,  and  I  thought  it  best  not  to  seem  to  notice  him. 
Harley  now  assisted  Viola  to  mount ;  and  then  springing 
lightly  upon  the  back  of  another  animal,  took  his  place 
beside  her,  and  the  two  moved  slowly  down  the  avenue. 
St.  Auburn  and  I  also  mounted,  and  followed  at  the  same 
leisurely  pace. 

After  proceeding  a  short  distance,  I  looked  back,  and 
saw  the  servants  collected  in  a  group  ;  they  were  evidently 
discussing  the  matter  of  his  lordship  not  appearing  to  see 
us  depart.  So  I  thought,  at  least,  and  felt  uneasy  ;  and 
the  moment  we  were  hidden  from  them  by  the  shrubbery, 
I  comnmnicated  my  idea  to  Harley,  and  advised  him  to 
quicken  his  pace.  He  did  so ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  we 
reached  the  gate,  through  which  we  had  that  morning  en- 
tered D'Estang  Yille  as  peddlers.     The  porter  eyed  us  a 


THE   ESCAPE.  197 


little  curiously,  I  thought;  but  opened  the  gate,  without 
asking  any  questions ;  and  with  an  indescribable  feeling  of 
relief,  we  found  ourselves  once  more  upon  the  highway. 

For  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more,  or  until  a  bend  of  the 
road  shut  from  us  a  view  of  D'Estang  Ville,  we  rode  along 
at  a  slow  pace;  and  then  putting  our  horses  to  a  fast 
canter,  we  did  not  draw  rein  till  we  reached  the  inn  of  the 
village  where  Harley  and  I  had  passed  the  night. 

Tom  came  running  out  as  we  rode  up,  and  appeared  as 
delighted  to  see  me  as  if  we  had  been  separated  four 
months,  instead  of  four  hours.  In  fact,  the  poor  fellow 
wept  tears  of  joy — for  he  had  been  much  concerned  lest 
something  serious  had  happened  to  me. 

We  all  dismounted,  entered  the  inn,  and  had  refresh- 
ments served  to  us  in  a  private  apartment.  While  eating, 
we  held  a  sort  of  council  of  war,  as  to  what  course  was 
best  for  us  to  pursue,  to  escape  the  revenge  of  the  Count; 
for  notwithstanding  his  oath  not  to  molest  us,  we  felt  al- 
most certain  he  would  break  it  the  moment  it  should  be  in 
his  power  to  do  so. 

"  It  is  very  necessary,"  said  Harley,  "  for  more  reasons 
than  one,  that  we  return  to  Galveston  immediately — the 
only  question  is,  in  what  way  it  shall  be  done.  Shall  we 
cross  the  country  over  the  route  by  which  we  came  hither? 
or  shall  we  take  a  steamer  down  the  Brazos,  and  so  round 
by  the  Gulf?" 

"  The  latter,  by  all  means,"  said  St.  Auburn,  quickly. 
"  We  might  get  safely  through  by  land,  g,nd  we  might 
not." 

"Why,  what  do  you  apprehend?"  asked  Harley. 
*I  have  reason  to  think  that  the  country  between  her© 
and  Galveston  is  infested  with  a  gang  of  desperadoes,  at 
the  head  of  which  is  this  same  wicked  D'Estang." 

"  Oh!  by  all  means,  let  us  return  by  water  !"  said  Viola. 
13  17 


198  VIOLA. 


"Your  wish  is  law,  dearest,'*  rejoined  Harley,  smiling: 
*'  by  water  let  it  be." 

This  settled,  Harley,  true  to  his  promise,  dispatched  a 
messenger  with  the  key  of  the  tower  and  a  note  to  the 
porter,  with  another  enclosed  for  the  Count  himself,  in 
which  he  thanked  his  lordship  for  his  kindness  and  hospi- 
tality, and  intimated  that  he  would  find  his  horses  at  a 
certain  landing,  subject  to  his  order.  We  then  rode  briskly 
down  to  the  landing  in  question,  Tom  keeping  us  company 
on  foot.  But  here  a  sad  disappointment  awaited  us.  The 
only  boat  that  was  to  go  out  that  day,  was  disabled ;  and 
we  must  perforce  remain  over  night,  or  ride  across  the 
country.  We  dared  not  think  of  remaining  in  such  close 
proximity  to  a  man  that  we  feared  would  scruple  not  to 
employ  the  vilest  means  to  revenge  himself  upon  us — and 
that  his  power  was  great  to  employ  such  means,  we  had 
good  reason  for  believing. 

"  How  unfortunate,"  said  Harley,  "that  I  have  sent  to 
release  the  Count!  for  we  might  have  kept  him  in  durance 
till  we  reached  a  place  of  safety.  But  it  cannot  be  helped 
now,  and  we  must  act  while  we  have  the  power." 

"How  unfortunate  indeed!"  exclaimed  Viola;  "for 
somehow  I  have  a  presentiment  that  we  shall  meet  with 
trouble." 

"And  I,"  said  St.  Auburn,  gloomily. 

"  Fear  not,  dearest — but  rely  on  us  to  protect  you," 
said  Harley,  in  reply  to  Viola.  "  We  are  four,  counting 
Tom,  and  we  are  all  well  armed." 

"But  not  invulnerable,"  rejoined  Viola — "and  oh! 
Morton,  if  anything  should  happen  to  you  !" 

"  Do  not  be  apprehensive,  dearest — but  put  your  trust 
in  a  higher  Power — that  Power  which  has  aided  us  so  far 
in  all  our  difficulties.     And  now,  Harry,"  he  added,  turn- 


THE  ESCAPE.  199 


ing  to  me,  "  we  must  have  a  horse  for  Tom,  and  the  sooner 
we  are  on  the  road  the  better." 

We  succeeded,  after  a  little  delay,  in  purchasing  a  swift- 
footed  animal ;  and  crossing  the  Brazos,  we  took  the  most 
direct  route  for  Galveston,  and  dashed  away  at  such  speed 
as  we  thought  our  horses  would  bear  without  giving  out. 

I  shall  not  weary  the  reader  with  a  detail  of  our  pro- 
gress on  that  memorable  day.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  when 
the  sun  went  down,  not  much  more  than  half  of  our 
journey  had  been  accomplished,  and  already  our  animals 
were  beginning  to  show  signs  of  fatigue,  and  we  ourselves 
felt  much  in  need  of  refreshment  and  rest.  From  where 
we  now  were,  to  the  nearest  village,  was  about  six  miles ; 
and  our  road,  none  of  the  best,  lay  through  a  dense,  dark 
wood,  which  was  only  broken  in  one  or  two  places  by  a 
small  clearing  around  the  log- cabin  of  some  late  settler  in 
this  region.  As  if  to  increase  the  gloominess  of  our 
journey,  a  black,  heavy  cloud  began  to  loom  up  in  the 
west,  from  which  issued  flashes  of  lightning,  followed  by 
the  rumbling  sound  of  distant  thunder,  warning  us  that  a 
shower  was  approaching,  an  event  that  was  anything  but 
agreeable  in  our  situation. 

"  Come,"  said  Harley,  *'  unles^we  quicken  our  present 
speed,  this  storm  will  surely  overtake  us  before  we  reach 
the  village,  the  only  place  where  I  should  like  to  trust  my- 
self to  pass  the  night  in  this  part  of  the  country." 

'^Yes!  yes!"  returned  St.  Auburn,  anxiously;  ''and  I 
would  we  were  far  beyond  that — for,  from  all  I  know  and 
have  heard,  there  are  some  desperate  characters  in  this 
vicinity." 

We  accordingly  spurred  on  our  jaded  horses,  St.  Auburn 
and  I  riding  in  advance,  Harley  and  Viola  coming  next, 
and  Tom  bringing  up  the  rear.  We  had  advanced  perhaps 
a  mile  furtner.  when  we  found  ourselves  about  central  way 


200  VIOLA. 


of  a  long  strip  of  dense  wood,  and,  save  when  relieved  by 
the  flashes  of  the  storm  behind  us,  in  a  darkness  impene- 
trable to  the  eye.  We  could  see  nothing,  in  fact,  except 
when  it  lightened ;  and  then  the  bright  flash  so  blinded  us, 
that,  for  a  short  time  after,  the  darkness  appeared  doubled. 
Nothing  was  said,  for  each  was  occupied  with  thoughts  of 
our  situation,  and  felt  too  deeply  anxious  for  the  result  to 
give  voice  to  them.  Save  that  we  were  mounted,  traveling 
over  a  known  road,  and  had  the  evanescent  light  of  the 
approaching  storm  to  guide  us,  I  felt  our  situation  to  be  in 
every  respect  as  gloomy  as  on  the  night  when  we  sought 
the  wayside  inn. 

"  And  perhaps,"  I  thought  to  myself,  "  the  peril  is  even 
greater ;  for  our  late  proceedings  must  of  course  have 
made  us  a  powerful  enemy  in  the  person  of  Count  D'Es- 
tang,  who  is,  if  released,  at  this  very  moment  doubtless 
pursuing  us ;  and  we  now  have  one  to  protect,  who  can,  in 
the  event  of  an  assault,  render  us  no  assistance  whatever." 

While  such  thoughts  as  these  were  yet  passing  through 
my  mind,  I  was  startled  by  hearing  a  monotonous,  deadened 
sound  behind  us.  I  made  no  remark,  but  turned  my  head 
aside,  and  inclined  it  in  a  listening  attitude.  At  this 
moment  a  bright  flash  lit  up  the  wood,  and  revealed  my 
position  to  Harley,  who  was  riding  near  with  Viola,  and 
who  instantly  called  out,  in  an  anxious  tone : 

"  What  is  it,  Harry  ?  what  is  it  ?" 

I  just  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  features,  and  saw  that 
they  were  deadly  pale. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  nothing — but  I  thought — " 

"  Hark  !"  interrupted  St.  Auburn,  reining  in  his  horse. 

We  all  came  to  a  halt  and  listened. 

The  sound,  whatever  it  was,  drew  nearer;  and  as  it 
became  more  audible,  I  fancied  I  could  distinguish  the 


THE   ESCAPE.  201 


patter  of  horses*  feet.  We  waited  breathlessly  another 
minute,  and  all  doubts  were  removed. 

"We  are  pursued,  I  fear,"  said  Harley,  in  a  low,  detei- 
mined  tone.  "  The  sound  draws  nearer  every  moment — it 
is  made  by  several  horses.  Let  us  ride  into  the  wood  here? 
and  remain  quiet — they  may  pass  us.  Courage  !  dearest — 
courage  !  we  will  protect  you." 

Viola  replied  in  a  tone  too  low  for  me  to  distinguish  what 
she  said,  and  at  the  same  moment  we  all  beheld  each  other 
by  another  flash  of  lightning.  Harley,  taking  advantage 
of  the  light,  pointed  to  the  wood  to  the  right,  and 
exclaimed  : 

"  This  way — quick  !"  and  the  next  moment  I  heard  the 
sound  of  his  horse's  feet  in  that  direction,  and  a  rustling 
among  the  bushes. 

We  all  instantly  followed  him,  as  best  we  could ;  and 
riding  back  a  few  rods  from  the  road,  we  again  came  to  a  halt. 
The  distant,  rumbling  sound,  as  first  heard,  had  by  this 
time  become  an  unmistakable  clatter  of  horses*  hoofs, 
urged  over  the  ground  at  no  ordinary  speed.  They  were 
now  evidently  at  no  great  distance,  and  I  at  least  was  con- 
gratulating myself,  that,  if  in  pursuit  of  us,  they  would  be 
likely  to  pass  us  in  the  darkness,  and  so  give  us  time  for 
further  preparation,  even  if  they  found  us  at  all,  when  the 
sounds  began  to  grow  less  audible,  and  gradually  to  die  away, 
till  at  last  nothing  but  the  sighing  of  the  breeze  among  the 
trees,  and  the  now  loud  and  increasing  thunder,  broke  the 
stillness  of  the  forest. 

"  What  can  be  the  meaning  of  this  ?"  said  Harley,  in  a 
low  tone. 

"  Perhaps  there  is  another  road,  which  we  have  passed 
in  the  darkness,  and  they  have  taken  !"  I  suggested. 

""iou  are  right — there  is  another  road — I  remember  it 
17* 


202  VIOLA. 


now,"  rejoined  St.  Auburn ;  *"  and  this  convinces  me  that 
they  are  D'Estang's  men." 

*'  But  why  did  they  take  that  road,  think  you  ?"  inquired 
Harley. 

"  It  is  a  nearer  way,  I  am  told,  across  the  country," 
replied  the  other  ;  "  and  knowing  that  I  am  with  you,  they 
may  have  thought  that  we  have  taken  it — or  again,  believ- 
ing us  to  be  further  advanced  on  our  journey,  they  may 
have  done  so  with  a  view  to  heading  us,  or  overtaking  us 
sooner." 

"  And  does  the  road  you  speak  of  come  into  this,  between 
here  and  the  village?" 

"  I  think  not,  nor  for  several  miles  beyond." 

"Then  we  will  resume  our  journey,"  said  Harley,  "and 
hasten  forward  to  this  village,  where  we  will.  Heaven 
willing,  spend  the  night." 

We  accordingly  picked  our  way  back  to  the  road,  and, 
nr^ed  forward  by  our  fears  and  the  approaching  storm,  set 
oflf  with  what  speed  we  could.  The  cloud  in  the  west  had 
by  this  time  loomed  half  way  to  the  zenith,  the  lightning 
had  become  more  frequent  and  vivid,  and  the  thunder  now 
rolled  heavily  over  our  heads,  occasionally  with  that  crash- 
ing sound  which  tells  that  the  fiery  bolt  has  passed  from 
heaven  to  earth,  and  rent  some  object  at  no  great  distance. 

"Oh!  what  a  gloomy  journey  !"  said  Viola;  "and  we 
shall  soon  be  at  the  mercy  of  this  storm,  I  fear." 

"  It  will  overtake  us,  I  think,"  replied  Harley;  "but  we 
can  ride  no  faster,  without  endangering  our  safety.  Cou- 
rage !  dearest — courage  !  I  am  with  you,  and  we  will  brave 
the  storm  together.  Or  perhaps,"  I  heard  him  add  a 
moment  after,  "  we  can  find  some  shelter  on  the  way  till 
the  storm  is  past." 

"No,  no,  Morton — do  not  let  us  trust  ourselves  among 
any  of  the  settlars  here — for  I  fear  them  more  than  the 


THE   ESCAPE.  203 


Btorm.  Oh  !  I  have  such  a  foreboding  of  evil — pray 
Heaven  avert  it !" 

"  Nerve  yourself,  dearest — give  not  way  to  your  fears, 
and  all  may  yet  be  well." 

He  said  something  more,  which  I  did  not  overhear,  and 
Viola  apparently  became  quieted. 

We  rode  on  at  a  brisk  trot,  and  had  advanced  a  mile  or 
two  further,  when  the  rain  began  to  fall  in  large  drops,  and 
we  could  hear  the  roar  of  the  storm  sweeping  up  the  forest 
behind  us.  At  this  moment,  by  the  light  of  another  vivid 
flash,  I  saw,  or  fencied  I  saw,  the  figure  of  a  man  standing 
beside  the  road,  partly  concealed  by  some  bushes,  not  half- 
a-dozen  paces  distant.  St.  Auburn  apparently  beheld  the 
same  object — for  he  reigned  his  horse  up  to  mine,  laid  his 
hand  upon  my  arm,  and  was  in  the  act  of  saying  somethings 
when  I  felt  my  bridle-rein  rudely  seized,  a  pistol  flashed 
before  me,  and  a  ball,  passing  through  my  hat,  slightly 
grazed  the  crown  of  my  head. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   ATTACK. 

Instantly  all  was  confusion.  I  heard  Viola  scream, 
Harley  shout,  and  voices  all  around  me,  many  of  them 
strange  to  my  ears.  I  knew  we  were  attacked  by  numbers, 
and  that  our  only  chance  of  escape  lay  in  immediate 
and  desperate  action.  Quick  as  thought,  I  drew  my 
revolver,  and  bending  over  my  horse's  neck,  I  reached  for- 
ward, till  I  felt  it  touch  some  object,  and  fired.  A  groan 
and  an  oath  succeeded,  the  grasp  upon  my  bridle-rein 
was  released,  and  I  once  more  had  my  steed  at  my  own 
command. 

I  now  heard  Viola  shriek  for  help  in  tones  of  despair, 
and  at  the  same  moment  a  flash  of  lightning  showed  me 
the  positon  of  each  party.  Viola,  in  the  grasp  of  two  men, 
with  masks  on  their  faces,  was  in  the  act  of  being  dragged 
from  her  horse;  Tom,  a  little  way  behind,  was  dis- 
mounted, and  had  one  of  the  assailants  by  the  throat — but 
I  felt  confident,  if  unmolested  by  others,  he  would  not 
come  out  second  best ;  Harley,  seated  on  his  horse,  had  a 
revolver  pointed  at  the  breast  of  another  mask,  who 
seemed  in  the  act  of  striking  him  witTi  a  long  knife ;  and 
St.  Auburn,  a  little  in  advance  of  me,  was  contending 
with  a  couple  of  assailants,  with  what  chance  of  success  I 
could  not  tell.  It  was  a  startling,  awful  picture,  which 
Was  only  seen  for  a  moment,  and  was  succeeded  by  impe- 
netrable darkness,  by  reports  of- pistols,  by  groans,  shrieks, 
(204) 


THE  ATTACK.  205 


shouts,  and  horrid  oaths,  and  by  a  crash  of  thunder  that 
made  the  earth  tremble  under  us. 

My  first  care  was  for  Viola — for  she,  poor  girl !  I  felt 
most  needed  assistance ;  and  instantly  leaping  from  my 
horse,  I  hastened  to  the  spot  where  I  had  seen  her — for 
now  I  could  see  nothing.  I  ran  against  some  object,  and, 
putting  out  my  hand,  felt  it  to  be  a  man. 

"  Who  are  you?"  he  cried. 

These  words,  perhaps,  were  his  last ;  for  I  knew  by  the 
voice  he  was  none  of  our  party ;  and  pushing  my  revolver 
against  his  breast,  I  fired  again.  There  was  a  deep  groan, 
and  I  heard  him  fall.  By  the  dim  light  of  the  discharge, 
I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Viola,  now  close  to  me,  on  her  feet, 
struggling  in  the  grasp  of  another  ruffian,  who  was  doubt- 
less endeavoring  to  drag  her  to  one  side  of  the  road  and 
into  the  bushes.  She  called  loudly  on  my  name  and  Har- 
ley's  for  assistance.  I  threw  the  hand  which  held  the 
revolver  around  her  slender  form,  and  as  the  weapon  cama, 
in  contact  with  some  other  object,  I  again  pulled  the 
trigger. 

There  was  a  yell  of  pain,  and  the  next  moment  I  felt 
her  released,  and  reclining  heavily  against  my  breast.  I 
thought  it  likely  she  had  fainted,  but  could  not  tell. 
Another  vivid  flash  now  lighted  for  an  instant  the  scene 
of  strife,  and  by  it  I  saw  Harley  still  seated  on  his  horse, 
pale  and  bloody,  and  looking  wildly  around  him.  He  was 
only  a  few  paces  distant ;  and  lifting  Viola  from  the 
ground,  I  ran  to  him. 

"Morton!"  I  cried, — "  Morton!  are  you  safe?" 

"  God  be  praised  !"  he  ejaculated — "it  is  the  voice  of 
Harry.     But  Viola?" 

"  Here  !  here  !  quick !  take  her ! — and  ride !  away  I 
away !"  and  while  speaking,  I  lifted  her  senseless  form 
upon  the  horse  and  into  his  arms. 


206  VIOLA. 


"  My  poor  Viola !  Heavens !  she  is  not  dead, 
Harry?" 

"No,  only  fainted,"  I  said  at  random — for  in  truth  I 
knew  not  but  that  the  ruffians  had  killed  her.  "  Away ! 
away  !  escape  while  you  have  an  opportunity." 

"  But  you—" 

"  Away  !"  I  interrupted,  with  a  shout  of  frenzy  :  "  mind 
me  not !  away  !"  and  I  struck  the  horse  a  heavy  blow  with 
my  weapon. 

The  animal  leaped  forward,  and  was  gone — for  I  could 
hear  the  sound  of  his  hoofs  growing  distant  in  the  dark- 
ness. All  I  have  mentioned  had  been  the  work  of  a  few 
moments ;  but  the  storm  was  now  roaring  and  howling 
around  us,  and  the  rain  was  falling  in  torrents.  "With  a 
silent  prayer  for  the  safety  of  my  friend  and  Viola,  I 
turned  to  grope  my  way  to  the  assistance  of  Tom,  when  I 
felt  a  rough  grasp  upon  my  shoulder,  and  a  sharp  pain  in 
my  right  thigh,  while  a  hoarse  voice  sounded  in  my  ear : 

"  Take  that,  you  villain  !  and  that !"  and  I  felt  myself 
wounded  in  the  arm,  and  the  warm  blood  trickling  down 
my  leg. 

I  sprang  backward,  and  my  heel  striking  something  in 
the  road,  I  fell ;  and  my  opponent,  still  keeping  his  hold 
upon  me,  was  brought  down  with  me.  In  the  fall  I  lost 
my  revolver ;  and  as  my  adversary  did  not  immediately 
stab  me  again,  I  conjectured  he  had  also  dropped  his  knife. 
This  gave  me  a  gleam  of  hope ;  and  grasping  him  by  the 
throat,  I  exerted  all  my  remaining  strength  to  turn  him, 
and  get  him  under.  But  I  labored  in  vain  ;  for  he  was  a 
powerful  man,  and  being  already  fairly  upon  me,  he  had 
by  position  much  the  advantage.  I  now  bethought  me  of 
my  own  knife ;  and  letting  go  my  grasp  upon  him,  I  en- 
deavored to  thrust  my  hand  under  my  waistcoat  and  draw 
it  forth  ;  but  the  moment  I  released  his  throat,  he  clutched 


THE  ATTACK.  207 


mine  with  both  hands,  and,  bearing  down  with  all  his  weight, 
choked  me  till  my  eyes  appeared  to  be  starting  fiom  their 
sockets.  I  now  felt  myself  to  be  in  the  agonies  of  death ; 
and  with  my  strength  fast  going  from  me,  I  said  a  mental 
prayer,  "  God  have  mercy  on  my  soul!"  and  gave  myself 
up  for  lost.  At  this  critical  instant,  I  thought  I  saw  some- 
thing like  a  flash,  and  heard  something  like  a  crash  of 
thunder  ;  but  my  senses  were  so  confused  and  wandering, 
that  I  was  certain  of  nothing  save  that  I  was  in  a  dying 
condition.  I  think  from  this  point  of  time  I  must  have 
lost  consciousness  for  a  few  moments  ;  for  the  next  thing 
I  remember,  my  head  was  being  raised  from  the  wet  clay, 
and  I  heard  a  familiar  voice  crying : 

"  Oh  !  Massa  Hal,  is  ye  dead  ?  •  Oh  !  Massa  Hal,  is  ye 
dead  ?     Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  my  poor  Massa  Hal  ?" 

"Is  it  you,  Tom ?"  I  said,  faintly. 

"  Oh,  bress  God  !  you  'libe  !  Oh,  tank  God  !  my  poor 
killed  massa  'libe !"  cried  the  poor  fellow,  with  a  choking 
sob  of  grief  and  joy ;  and  lifting  me  from  the  earth,  as  if 
I  were  a  child,  he  bore  mc  quickly  into  the  wood,  and  sat 
me  carefully  down  about  a  hundred  yards  from  the  road, 
adding,  in  a  low,  excited  tone  :  "  Speak  'gin,  Massa  Hal — 
quick — dat  dis  child  know  you  'libe  !" 

"Yes,  Tom,"  I  said,  "I  am  still  alive,  thank  God! 
But  I  feel  strangely,  and  very  weak  and  faint." 

"  Oh  !  my  poor  massa,  mebby  you  die  'gin  now,  in  all 
dis  rain  !"  sobbed  the  noble  fellow;  and  almost  tearing  off 
his  coat,  he  threw  it  around  my  shoulders,  as  the  only  pro- 
tection he  could  give  me  against  the  beating  storm,  which 
was  now  raging  at  its  height. 

For  a  few  minutes  I  sat  and  pondered ;  while  Tom,  on 
his  knees  by  my  side,  sobbed  aloud  his  grief;  for  he  was 
now  under  the  impression  that  I  would  die,  and  he  knew 
liis  inability  to  do  anything  for  me.     At  first  my  mind  wa8 


208  VIOLA. 


BO  confused  and  bewildered,  that  I  could  recall  nothing  dis- 
tinctly. I  knew  that  we  had  been  assailed,  and  that  there 
had  been  some  kind  of  a  skirmish — but  all  the  particula; 
incidents  of  that  skirmish  I  had  forgotten.  Gradually, 
one  by  one,  they  came  to  me ;  and  I  remembered,  with 
tears  of  joy,  how  I  had  rescued  Viola,  and  placed  her  in 
the  arms  of  my  friend,  and  how  they  had  ridden  away  ; 
and  if  ever  in  my  life  I  uttered  a  sincere  prayer,  it  was 
that  they  might  be  permitted  to  escape  unharmed. 

"Tom!"  I  said,  at  length,  and  the  poor  fellow  uttered 
a  cry  of  joy. 

"Dat  like  you'seff,  Massa  Hal,"  he  said:  "  You  no  die 
dis  time,  I  tink,  bress  Heaven !" 

"  No,  my  worthy  fellow,  I  feel  my  strength  returning, 
and  I  must  thank  you  for  my  life ;"  and  I  grasped  his 
honest  hand,  while  he  wept  anew  for  joy.  "But  tell  me, 
Tom,  how  did  you  come  out  in  the  affray  ?  and  how  hap- 
pened it  that  you  so  timely  rescued  me  from  an  awful  fate  ?" 

"  I  can't  tell  much  trait  trufh,  case  I  don't  much  know 
how  um  was,"  replied  Tom.  "Some  rascal  grab  me,  and 
I  git  from  my  boss  and  grab  him ;  and  den  I  git  out  my 
r'olver,  and  do  just  Massa  Harley  tole  me ;  and  bang  it 
go,  and  away  he  go,  hollering.  Den  I  look  all  around,  but 
see  not'ing,  case  um  so  dark.  Eym-by  um  lighten ;  and 
den  I  tink  I  seed  you,  wid  Missee  Veeler,  and  I  gwine  to 
go  to  you ;  and  den  I  seed  not'ing  'gin,  till  bym-by  um 
lighten  'gin ;  and  den  I  tink  I  seed  you  on  de  ground,  and 
big  villain  top ;  den  I  run  up  and  feel  in  dark,  and  git  hold 
on  him,  and  put  r'olver  'gin  he  head,  and  pull  de  little  ting 
'gin,  and  he  let  go ;  and  den  I  git  you  up,  and  you 
speak,  and  I  take  you  here,  and  dat  all  I  know  'bout  um, 
massa." 

"  You  saved  my  life,  Tom,  and  I  am  not  one  to  forget 
it,"  I  rejoined.     " But  now  what  is  to  be  done?     It  is  not 


THE    ATTACK.  209 


prudent  to  return  to  the  scene  of  strife  for  our  horses,  and 
so  we  must  try  and  reach  the  village  on  foot." 

"  I  tink  so,  massa — bu-bu-but  can  you  go  'foot  you'seff  ?" 

'•I  will  try,  with  your  assistance,  Tom." 

I  did  try,  but  at  first  found  myself  too  weak  to  succeed. 
I  had  been  wounded  in  the  arm  and  thigh  ;  and  though 
only  flesh  wounds,'  the  blood  was  still  flowing  freely.  I  sat 
down  again,  and  ripping  up  the  leg  of  my  trowsers,  and 
the  sleeve  of  my  coat,  succeeded,  with  the  aid  of  Tom,  in 
putting  a  bandage  round  each,  which  in  a  great  measure 
stanched  the  blood ;  but  it  was  at  least  an  hour  before  I 
found  myself  able  to  walk,  even  by  leaning  on  Tom  for 
support. 

The  storm  meantime  had  raged  with  unabated  fury.  The 
wind  blew  a  hurricane,  bending  the  largest  trees  like  withes 
— in  some  cases  uprooting  them,  or  twisting  them  from  their 
trunks — while  the  rain  fell  m  torrents,  the  lightning  came 
like  broad  sheets  of  fire,  that  left  a  sulphurous  smell  and 
a  sense  of  burning,  and  the  thunder  crashed  and  roared 
with  a  deafening  eflfect.  At  last  the  storm  began  to  abate, 
or  at  least  to  pass  onward  ;  and  leaning  on  Tom  for  sup- 
port, I  set  off  slowly  for  the  village,  now  about  three  miles 
distant. 

We  entered  the  road  some  quarter  of  a  mile  beyond  the 
place  of  skirmish,  but  found  it  in  a  wretched  condition. 
The  ground  was  low  and  level,  and  the  soil  a  moist  clay, 
which  the  late  rain  had  converted  into  a  substance  more 
resembling  paste  than  any  thing  else  I  can  liken  it  to ;  and 
as  the  foot  went  down  with  ease,  in  many  places  about 
knee  deep,  and  came  up  with  much  labor,  the  reader  can 
form  some  idea  of  the  length  those  three  miles  appeared 
to  me,  in  my  weak,  wounded,  fatigued,  and  excited  state. 

We  had  progressed  about  half  a  mile,  when  we  heard 
horses  approaching  us  from  the  direction  of  the  village. 

18 


210  VIOLA. 


Not  knowing  whether  thej  were  friends  or  enemies,  we 
turned  aside  into  the  wood  till  they  had  passed,  and  then 
resumed  our  journey.  So  slowly  did  we  travel,  that  it 
was  a  good  hour  and  a  half,  after  first  reaching  the  road, 
ere  we  came  in  sight  of  the  lights  of  the  village.  We 
were  now  startled  again  by  hearing  a  body  of  horsemen  be- 
hind us.  We  drew  aside,  and  they  passed  us,  talking  ear- 
nestly, but  in  tones  so  low  that  I  could  not  overhear  what 
was  said. 

Half-an-hour  later,  completely  worn  out,  I  dragged  my- 
self up  to  the  door  of  a  very  genteel  looking  inn  of  the  vil- 
lage in  question.  There  appeared  to  be  something  unusual 
going  on  within  ;  for  the  bar-room  was  crowded,  several 
horses  stood  hitched  around  the  door,  and  I  could  see  per- 
sons standing  in  groups,  and  all  talking  earnestly. 

The  moment  we  entered,  all  eyes  were  turned  upon  us, 
and  some  voice  exclaimed  : 

"  Here  they  are  now  ;"  and  then  a  genteel-looking  young 
man,  in  a  kind  of  military  undress,  approached  me,  and 
said : 

"Do  I  address  Mr.  Henry  Walton  ?" 

"That  is  my  name,  sir,"  I  replied. 

"Quick,  some  one,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  others— 
"hasten  and  inform  the  young  gentleman,  Mr.  Harley, 
that  his  friend  has  arrived." 

"  Harley  ?"  cried  I :  "  then  he  is  safe  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  Viola?" 

"  If  you  mean  the  young  lady  who  is  with  him,  she  is 
also  safe." 

"  Thank  God  !  thank  God  !"  I  ejaculated,  sinking  upon 
a  chair ;  for  I  was  nearly  overcome  with  fatigue,  loss  of 
blood,  and  emotions  of  joy. 

"  They  are  now  with  another  of  your  party,  who  has 


THE    ATTACK.  211 


just  been  brought  in,  badlj  wounded,"  continued  the  young 
officer,  for  such  he  really  was. 

"Ah!  St.  Auburn  I"  I  said. 

"Yes,  I  think  that  is  the  name." 

*'  Is  he  dangerously  wounded  ?"  I  inquired,  with  a  de- 
gree of  interest  the  reader  will  readily  understand. 

"Mortally,  it  is  thought,"  replied  my  informant:  "in 
fact,  we  picked  him  up  for  dead — but  he  still  lives." 

"  It  was  your  party,  perhaps,  then,  that  met  and  passed 
me  on  the  road  ?" 

"  We  have  been  only  a  short  time  returned  from  the 
spot  where  you  were  assailed  by  the  robbers,"  answered 
the  other. 

I  now  heard  the  voice  of  Harley,  fairly  shouting: 

"  Where  is  he  ?  where  is  he  ?"  and  the  next  moment,  as 
the  crowd  near  me  gave  way,  he  came  bounding  through, 
and  throwing  his  arms  around  my  neck,  sobbed  forth  :  "  God 
be  praised  !  God  be  praised  !  But  you  are  pale  and  bloody !" 
he  cried,  starting  back.  "  Heavens !  you  are  wounded  !  you 
are  ill  besides  !  Quick,  here,  some  brandy !  and  call  the 
Burgeon,  somebody !" 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,  Morton,"  I  said:  "my  wounds  are 
mere  scratches.  If  these  kind  friends  will  stand  back  a 
little,  and  give  me  air,  I  shall  do  very  well." 

"  But  how  did  you  get  here,  Harry  ?  We  could  not  find 
you,  nor  Tom,  and  thought  the  ruffians  had  dragged  you 
away,  and  murdered  you.  Oh,  Heaven  !  what  were  my 
feelings  then  !  But,  God  be  praised !  you  are  here  now, 
and  I  have  you  once  more ;"  and  again  throwing  his  arms 
around  my  neck,  he  wept  tears  of  joy. 

But  not  to  prolong  my  story  with  unnecessary  detail,  I 
will  state  in  a  few  words  all  that  is  of  any  importance  to 
the  reader.  Harley  had  succeeded  in  reaching  the  village 
with  Viola,  who  on  the  way  had  recovered  her  senses,  to 


212  VIOLA. 


find  herself  in  the  arms  of  him  she  loved.  In  the  affray, 
he  had  received  a  cut  across  the  forehead,  which  accounted 
for  his  face  being  bloody  at  the  moment  I  beheld  it  by  the 
lightning ;  but  as  the  wound  was  not  serious,  he  had  no 
sooner  deposited  Viola  in  safety  at  the  inn,  than  he  told 
his  story,  and  asked  assistance  to  go  to  the  rescue  of  his 
friends.  A  recruiting  officer,  who  chanced  to  be  passing 
the  night  at  the  village,  with  a  small  party  of  his  men,  gal- 
lantly volunteered  his  services ;  and,  with  some  ten  or  fif- 
teen recruits,  repaired  to  the  scene  of  the  attack,  Harley 
acting  as  guide.  They  carried  with  them  a  couple  of 
torches,  which,  on  reaching  the  place  of  strife,  they  lighted, 
and  made  a  careful  search  for  the  dead  and  wounded — ex- 
pecting, as  Harley  told  me,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  to  find 
Tom  and  myself  among  the  number.  But  save  the  body 
of  St.  Auburn,  they  found  very  little  indication  of  the  san* 
guinary  fight  which  had  so  recently  taken  place  there. 
The  desperadoes  were  all  gone,  and  the  storm  had  oblite- 
rated nearly  all  traces  of  their  ever  having  been  there. 
St.  Auburn  was  discovered  lying  with  his  face  to  the 
ground,  and  was  picked  up  in  a  senseless  condition,  with 
two  deep  wounds  in  his  breast,  and  several  cuts  and  stabs 
on  other  parts  of  his  person.  It  was  supposed  at  the  time 
that  he  was  dead  ;  but  on  their  way  back  to  the  village,  he 
had  exhibited  signs  of  life ;  and  on  reaching  the  inn,  he 
had  been  laid  upon  a  bed,  and  a  physician  summoned  to 
dress  his  wounds.  The  latter  was  now  with  him  ;  but  had 
given  it  as  his  opinion,  that  the  wounds  were  mortal,  and 
that  the  probability  was  he  would  not  survive  the  night. 
As  yet  he  had  not  spoken  ;  but  at  the  moment  of  my  arri- 
val, there  were  slight  indications  of  returning  conscious- 
ness ;  and  Harley  was  in  hopes  he  might,  ere  the  fatal  mo- 
ment, be  able  to  glean  some  further  important  knowledge 
concernino:  Viola. 


THE   ATTACK.  213 


Such  was  the  substance  of  what  mj  friend  communicated 
to  me,  as  I  rested  myself  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  bar 
room,  and  drank  off  some  kind  of  a  cordial  which  the  land 
lord  meantime  prepared  for  me. 

"Do  you  think  we  were  attacked  by  D'Estang's  men  ?"' 
I  inquired,  in  a  low  tone,  when  Harley  had  finished  bi.-^ 
Btory,  and  I  had  given  him  some  particulars  of  my  ov.ii 
providential  escape. 

"I  do,"  he  replied,  compressing  his  lips  and  frowning. 

"  Then  let  us  make  this  country  too  hot  to  hold  him,  the 
perjured  villain  !"  returned  I. 

"  Not  now,  Harry — not  now — you  forget  I  have  Viola 
to  protect !  I  must  first  get  her  out  of  a  country  where 
she  is  not  safe  an  hour ;  and  then — But  further  is  an  after 
consideration.  Come,  let  me  conduct  you  to  a  private 
apartment,  and  have  your  wounds  dressed  at  once." 

"No,"  returned  I,  "since  drinking  this  cordial  I  feel 
much  revived,  and  I  am  anxious  to  see  St.  Anburn  ere 
all  is  over." 

"  Well,  at  least  you  shall  change  your  wet  garments  for 
dry  ones,"  rejoined  Harley. 

"I  did  so,  the  landlord  supplying  me  with  the  necessary 
articles.  Meantime,  Harley  repaired  to  the  apartment  of 
the  wounded  man ;  but  ere  I  was  ready  to  do  so,  he  burst 
into  the  room  where  I  was,  exclaiming : 

"  Quick  !  Harry — hasten  !  there  are  strong  signs  of  re- 
turning consciousness,  which  the  doctor  thinks  will  precede 
speedy  dissolution,  and  I  would  have  you  present,  in  case 
he  makes  any  further  revelation  concerning  Viola." 

I  hurried  on  my  clothes,  and  accompanied  my  friend  to 
the  chamber  of  the  dying  St.  Auburn. 


14  18* 


CHAPTER   XX. 


CONCLUSION. 


I  FOUND  him  stretched  upon  a  bed,  breathing  heavily, 
and  slightly  moving  his  head  from  side  to  side.  His  face 
■was  pale  and  ghastly,  and  he  was  much  sunken  about  the 
eyes,  cheeks,  and  mouth.  On  one  side  stood  the  surgeon, 
with  his  hand  upon  his  pulse  ;  and  on  the  opposite  side 
stood  Viola,  weeping.  There  were  several  other  persons  in 
the  room,  and  among  them  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  who 
had  called  in  to  see  the  sufferer,  and  perchance  to  speak 
words  of  holy  hope  in  his  last  moments.  On  seeing  me, 
Viola  at  once  came  forward,  and  taking  my  hand,  said, 
earnestly,  with  tearful  eyes  : 

"  God  bless  you,  Mr.  Walton !  I  owe  my  life  to  you, 
and  more.  This  is  a  sad  scene ;  for  though  I  have  been 
wrongly  dealt  with  by  him  who  now  lies  dying,  yet  I  can- 
not forget  I  have  ever  called  him  father ;  and  from  my 
heart  I  forgive  him — may  Heaven  do  likewise." 

It  was  indeed  a  sad  scene,  and  all  present  were  more  or 
less  affected.  For  some  minutes  St.  Auburn  remained  as 
I  have  described  him  ;  and  then  opening  his  eyes,  and 
looking  around,  said,  in  a  feeble  tone: 

"  Water — give  me  water." 

These  were  the  first  intelligible  sounds  that  had  issued 
from  his  lips  since  being  brought  hither.  The  doctor  took 
a  glass  of  water,  poured  in  a  few  drops  of  mixture  from  a 
vial,  and  gave  him  to  drink.  This  seemed  to  revive  him  in 
a  wonderful  degree;  and  partly  raising  himself  on  his 
(214) 


CONCLUSION.  215 


elbow,  and  looking  curiously  around,  he  again  spoke,  in  a 
stronger  tone  than  before  : 

"  Where  am  I  ?  Ah !  my  breast — my  head — let  me 
think  !  Yiola,  my  child,  is  that  you  ?  Ah !  I  seem  to 
remember  now :  I  was  riding — we  were  trying  to  escape, 
and  we  were  attacked.  Yes,  yes ;  and  they  were  too  much 
for  us — for  me  at  least — I  think  so — were  they  not  ?" 

"You  were  badly  wounded,  father,"  said  Yiola,  taking  hia 
hand. 

"  Father  !"  he  repeated — "  father  !  No,  no — you  must 
not  call  me  father — I  do  not  deserve  the  title.  Oh,  Yiola, 
how  deeply  have  I  wronged  you  !" 

"  But  I  forgive  you,  father — for  father  I  must  still  call 
you — and  oh  !  pray  Heaven  to  forgive  you  also  !" 

"  I  cannot  pray — I  never  prayed  in  my  life,"  he  rejoined, 
with  a  look  of  anguish  I  shall  never  forget ;  "  and  if  I  did, 
God  would  not  accept  my  petition  at  the  last  moment." 

"  It  is  never  too  late  to  repent  in  this  life,"  interposed 
the  divine,  in  a  mild  tone,  approaching  the  bed,  "  Remem- 
ber the  thief  on  the  cross  !" 

"  And  who  are  you  that  speak  these  words  of  consola- 
tion?" inquired  St.  Auburn,  with  a  brightening  of  the 
countenance,  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  minister. 

*'  I  profess  to  be  an  humble  follower  of  Him  who  said 
to  the  thief,  *  This  day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise," 
was  the  reply. 

St.  Auburn  extended  him  a  hand,  and  then  fell  back  on 
his  pillow,  apparently  exhausted.  He  closed  his  eyes,  and 
seemed  to  be  pondering  upon  what  he  had  just  heard. 
Suddenly  he  looked  up  and  said : 

"  Am  I  dying  ?" 

"We  fear  you  have  not  long  to  live,"  replied  the 
Burgeon. 

"Are  you  a  physician  ?"  inquired  the  sufferer. 


216  VIOLA. 


"lam." 

"  Then  I  ask  you  to  tell  me,  honestly,  whether  there  is 
or  is  not,  a  chance  for  me  to  recover  ?" 

"  You  cannot  recover." 

A  painful  expression  swept  over  St.  Auburn's  counte- 
nance, and  he  uttered  a  deep  groan. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  continued,  "  and  use  no  deception — how 
long  can  I  survive  ?" 

"  The  chances  are  that  you  will  never  belold  the  light  of 
another  sun." 

"lam  justly  punished,"  rejoined  the  sufferer.  And 
then,  after  another  pause,  he  pursued,  addressing  the 
divine :  "  Is  it  not  the  first  duty  of  a  repentant  man  to 
right  those  he  has  wronged  ?" 

"  If  you  have  wronged  any  one,  and  can  repair  the  wrong, 
it  is  certainly  your  first  duty  to  do  so,"  was  the  reply. 

*'  I  have  wronged  many,  sir,  and  it  is  beyond  my  power 
to  right  them ;  but  there  are  those  here  present,  who  have 
had  cause  to  curse  my  existence,  that  it  may  still  be  in  my 
power  to  serve,  for  which  I  will  hope  for  their  forgiveness  ;" 
and  his  eyes  now  rested  on  Viola,  and  on  Harley,  who 
stood  by  her  side. 

"  I  forgive  you  all — everything,"  said  Viola,  in  a  tremu- 
lous tone  ;  "  and  for  my  sake,  if  for  no  other  consideration, 
I  feel  assured  Morton  will  also ;"  and  she  appealed  to  .him 
with  her  eyes. 

"I  do  forgive  you,  Mr.  St.  Auburn,"  said  Harley; 
"  not  alone  for  the  sake  of  Viola,  but  because  it  is  not  in 
my  nature  to  harbor  malice  against  one  who  is  doomed  by 
the  irrevocable  decree  of  Fate  to  go  hence  to  a  speedy  and 
final  judgment." 

"  Thank  you  !  thank  you  !  Oh  !  you  know  not  what  a 
relief  your  generous  words  afford  me  !  But  my  time  is 
ehort,  and  I  must  do  you  and  Viola  the  little  service  that 


CONCLUSION  21' 


lies  in  my  power.  The  secret  of  her  parentage,  God 
willing,  I  will  now  disclose.  Something  I  have  told  you, 
if  my  memory  serves  me  right — but  there  is  much  more  to 
be  told.  Bear  witness  all,"  he  continued,  solemnly,  rolling 
his  eyes  slowly  over  the  bystanders  :  *'  Bear  witness  all 
of  you,  to  the  words  of  a  dying  man  I — This  young  lady 
(extending  his  hand  to  Viola,  who  clasped  it  in  both  of 
hers)  has  ever  been  known  as  Viola  St.  Auburn,  my  daughter. 
But  she  is  not  akin  to  me,  and  has  been  most  deeply  wronged 
by  me,  as  have  her  parents  also,  for  which  may  Heaven  for- 
give me !  Bear  witness  all,  that  in  the  presence  of  Almighty 
God,  before  whom  I  must  shortly  appear,  to  render  up  a  strict 
account  of  all  the  deeds  done  in  the  body,  I  solemnly  pro- 
nounce her  to  be  the  daughter  of  Don  Juan  Gomez  Alverda, 
a  Spanish  gentleman  now  living  in  the  city  of  Mexico !" 

*' Alverda  !"  exclaimed  Viola,  in  her  astonishment  letting 
fall  the  hand  of  St.  Auburn,  and  clasping  her  own  together. 
"  Alverda,  say  you  ?  Don  Juan  Gomez  Alverda  ?  did  I 
hear  aright?  am  I  indeed  his  daughter  ?" 

"  You  are,  Viola,"  replied  the  sufferer,  "as  I  hope  for 
mercy  hereafter." 

"  Oh  !  this  is  so  strange  !  it  bewilders  me  !"  she  rejoined. 

"  Do  you  know  him,  Viola  ?"  inquired  Harley, 

"  Oh,  well,  Morton — well — as  well  indeed,  if  not  better, 
than  I  know  you.  A  kinder,  nobler-hearted  gentleman 
does  not  live ;  and  many  and  many  a  time  have  I  heard 
him  speak  of  the  loss  of  his  infant  daughter,  and  wonder 
if  she  were  living,  while  tears  of  grief  rolled  down  his 
manly  face.  And  to  think  that  I,  who  have  so  often  sat 
and  sympathised  with  him,  should  prove  to  be  that  lost 
daughter  !  Oh,  it  is  so  singular — so  strange — that  I  can 
hardly  believe  it  true  !" 

"It  is  indeed  very  strange,"  said  Harley. 

"  But  it  IS  as  true  as  strange,"  pursued  St.  Auburn.  "And 
18* 


218  VIOLA. 


now,  ere  my  voice  fails  me,  listen,  and  you  shall  learn  the 
gecret  of  the  mystery. 

"  Some  eighteen  months  after  my  marriage  with  the  lady 
concerning  whom  your  father,  Mr.  Harley,  and  myself  once 
had  a  quarrel,  I  spent  the  winter  with  my  wife  in  New 
Orleans.  I  went  there  partly  on  business  and  partly  on 
pleasure,  expecting  to  remain  but  a  few  days,  or  a  month  at 
the  farthest — but  was  detained  there  the  whole  season  by 
the  illness  of  my  wife.  During  this  period  she  gave  birth 
to  a  daughter,  who  survived  but  a  week.  My  wife  being 
in  a  very  weak,  nervous  condition,  was  so  affected  by  the 
loss,  that  she  became  deranged,  and  continually  called  for 
her  child,  which  she  declared  we  had  secreted  for  the  pur- 
pose of  taking  its  life.  Nothing  could  be  said  to  console 
her ;  and  the  physician  privately  stated  to  me,  that  unless 
another  infant,  about  the  same  size  and  age,  could  be  sub- 
stituted, and  she  be  brought  to  regard  it  as  her  own,  he 
feared  she  would  never  recover  her  reason." 

Here  St.  Auburn  paused,  apparently  exhausted,  al- 
though he  had  spoken  in  a  very  low  tone.  The  surgeon 
gave  him  to  drink  of  the  mixture  again ;  and  after  lying 
with  his  eyes  shut,  and  breathing  heavily  for  a  few 
moments,  he  revived  a  little,  made  an  effort,  and  resumed : 

"  My  friends,  I  must  be  brief,  for  I  feel  that  my  minutes 
are  numbered.  May  God  spare  me  to  relate  my  story, 
and  give  me  time  to  repent  of  my  many  sins  !  For  days 
I  sought  in  vain  for  an  infant  suited  to  my  purpose.  At 
length  one  morning,  on  visiting  one  of  the  asylums,  I 
learned  that  a  child  had  just  been  brought  there,  whose 
parents,  entire  strangers  in  the  city,  were  both  lying  at 
the  point  of  death,  from  an  attack  of  something  resembling 
ship  fever.  I  asked  to  see  the  child,  and,  on  beholding  it, 
was  struck  with  its  resemblance  to  my  own.  I  subse- 
quently learned  that  its  father  was  a  wealthy  Spanish  gen- 


CONCLUSION.  219 


tleman,  who  had  just  arrived  from  the  West  Indies, 
where  he  had  held  an  office  under  the  Spanish  Government, 
and  that  this  child,  and  the  one  I  had  lost,  were  both  born 
on  the  same  day.  To  possess  myself  of  this  child,  and 
rear  it  as  my  own,  I  was  now  determined,  let  the  conse- 
quences be  what  they  might.  To  effect  this  object,  I 
thought  over  various  plans,  and  at  length  adopted  one, 
which  was  successfully  carried  out.  I  procured  a  stylish 
conveyance,  and  bribed  two  worthless  fellows  to  dress  in 
livery,  drive  to  the  asylum,  represent  themselves  as  Don 
Alverda's  servants,  and  say  that  the  parents  of  the  child, 
being  in  a  fair  way  of  recovery,  wished  it  to  be  taken  away, 
and  conveyed  to  a  certain  place,  a  few  miles  out  of  town, 
where  special  provision  had  been  made  for  its  reception. 
As  I  have  said,  my  plan  was  successful.  That  night  I  re- 
ceived the  child  from  the  hands  of  my  accomplices,  to  whom 
I  readily  paid  a  large  sum,  and  advised  them  to  leave  the 
country,  which  they  did.  I  took  the  little  infant  home, 
had  my  daughter's  clothes  put  upon  it,  and  presented 
It  to  my  wife.  For  several  days,  however,  no  change  for 
the  better  was  perceptible,  and  I  was  beginning  to  despair 
of  ever  seeing  her  restored  to  reason,  when,  with  a  degree 
of  joy  which  words  cannot  express,  I  saw  her  take  notice 
of  the  child.  A  week  from  that  time  she  had  become  per- 
fectly rational,  and  was  fondling  the  pretty  infant,  thinking 
it  her  own.  Poor  Mary  !  sweet,  confiding,  gentle  Mary  ! 
She  never  knew  otherwise ;  and  died,  believing  that  the 
child  she  had  reared  as  her  own,  was  of  her  own  flesh  and 
blood.  That  child,  which  we  named  Viola,  is  the  lady 
that  now  stands  by  the  dying  bed  of  him  who  so  vilely 
wronged  her  and  her  parents." 

St.  Auburn  here  uttered  a  deep  groan,  and  again  became 
silent.  All  present  seemed. amazed  at  the  disclosure,  and 
Viola  was  deeply  affected.     For  some  moments  the  heav^ 


220  YIOLA. 


breathings  of  the  dying  man  alone  broke  the  solemn  still- 
ness of  the  chamber.     Then  Harley  ventured  the  question: 

*'But  the  parents  of  Viola — made  they  no  inquiry  for 
her?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  sufferer,  speaking  with  great  diffi- 
culty ;  "  on  recovering  from  their  sickness,  and  learning  in 
what  manner  she  had  been  taken  away,  they  became  nearly 
distracted ;  and  besides  setting  the  police  to  work  in  every 
direction,  her  father  offered  an  immense  reward  to  any  one 
who  would  give  any  information  concerning  her.  The 
affair,  too,  got  into  the  papers,  and  for  a  time  created  great 
excitement — no  one  being  able  to  advance  a  satisfactory 
reason  for  her  mysterious  disappearance.  If  any  one  sus- 
pected me  of  a  hand  in  the  matter,  they  kept  it  to  them- 
selves. I  have  sometimes  thought  that  our  attending 
physician  did  ;  but  he  was  a  man  who  paid  particular  at- 
tention to  his  own  business,  and  not  a  word  ever  passed  his 
lips  to  me  on  the  subject.  I  had  but  two  confidants;  and 
those  were  my  cousin  and  his  wife,  at  whose  house  we  were 
staying.  They  never  betrayed  me — though  it  has  ever 
been  in  their  power  to  do  so — for  the  clothes  worn  by 
Viola,  when  taken  from  the  asylum,  are  still  in  their  pos- 
session ;  and  are,  in  fact,  the  proofs  to  be  brought  forward 
to  substantiate  this,  my  dying  confession." 

"This  I  believe  to  be  true,  Morton,"  said  Viola,  in  a 
low,  tremulous,  excited  tone ;  "  for  often  have  I  heard  Don 
Alverda  tell  how  he  once  had  a  daughter  just  my  own  age, 
stolen  from  him  in  the  manner  related  ;  while  his  good 
lady — my  mother  as  I  must  now  term  her — sat  by  and 
listened,  weeping  bitter  tears  of  grief  for  the  lost  one ; 
but  oh  !  little  then  did  I  think,  or  little  did  they  dream, 
that  I  was  that  lost  one — that  they  were  pouring  their 
griefs  into  a  daughter's  ear." 

"It  is  very  strange  I"  remarked  the  surgeon:  "a  tale 


CONCLUSION.  221 


savoring  more   of   the  romance  of    the  novelist  than  of 
reality." 

"  Reality  often  exceeds  in  romance  the  inventions  of  the 
brain,"  I  replied ;  *'  and  I,  with  but  little  experience, 
speak  from  experience." 

"  Yes,  is  it  not  very  singular,"  resumed  St.  Auburn, 
"  that  the  very  man  I  had  so  deeply  wronged,  should  after- 
ward become  one  of  my  most  intimate  friends  ?  "We  be- 
came acquainted  in  the  city  of  Mexico ;  and  for  a  long 
time  the  bare  mention  of  his  name  made  me  tremble  with 
guilt ;  and  when  he  first  related  to  me  the  story  of  his 
bereavement,  I  was  so  affected  that  he  called  for  help, 
thinking  I  had  suddenly  been  taken  ill.  Had  it  not  been 
for  my  lamented  wife,  whom  I  dearly  loved,  and  whose 
happiness  was  paramount  with  me  to  every  other  consider- 
ation, I  should  then  have  told  him  the  story,  and  restored 
him  a  long  lost  daughter.  But  this  feeling  of  guilt  and 
remorse  gradually  wore  away;  and  when  at  last  I  con- 
signed to  dust  the  earthly  remains  of  my  beloved  Mary, 
and  saw  my  fortune  a  wreck,  and  myself  little  better  than 
an  outcast,  I  suddenly  became  embittered  against  the 
world,  and  resolved  to  retrieve  my  fortune  by  the  basest 
means — no  less  than  the  selling  of  this  poor  girl  and  her 
secret  to  a  villain.  But  Heaven  has  punished  me,  and,  I 
acknowledge,  justly  punished  me,  for  my  baseness.  Had 
I  acted  uprightly,  I  should  not  be  here  now,  whatever 
other  fate  had  been  mine.  *'  Sir,"  he  said,  turning  to  the 
minister,  "can  a  man  be  saved  that  dies  without  forgiving 
his  enemies?" 

"  We  are  strictly  commanded,  in  God's  holy  Word,  to 
forgive  our  enemies,"  replied  the  divine,  solemnly. 

"  Then,"  rejoined  St.  Auburn,  "  I  will  try  to  forgive 
him — I  will  pray  for  aid  from  on  high  to  forgive  him." 

19 


222  VIOLA. 


"  Such  is  the  fruit  of  a  true  repentance,"  responded 
the  clergyman. 

"Whom  do  you  mean?"  inquired  Harley. 

"  Our  mutual  foe,  the  Count." 

"  Do  you  think  it  was  his  men  that  assailed  us  ?" 

"  I  do,  Mr.  Harley.  But  I  will  try  and  forgive  him. 
There  is  none  other  against  whom  I  hold  any  hard  feel- 
ings. Ask  your  father,  Morton,  to  forgive  me,  when  I  am 
gone  ;  and  oh  !  Viola,  if  you  ever  loved  me,  on  your  knees 
crave  pardon  of  your  kind  parents  for  the  wrong  I  have 
done  them.  Come  nearer,  Mr.  Harley — give  me  your 
ear;"  and  the  dying  man  made  a  private  communication, 
which  I  subsequently  learned  related  to  the  recovery  of  the 
articles  worn  by  Viola  on  leaving  the  asylum.  "  These," 
he  said,  aloud,  "may  be  of  much  importance  to  you." 

"I  will  follow  your  instructions,"  replied  my  friend; 
"  and  had  you  been  permitted  to  go  with  us,  I  would  have 
kept  my  word  with  you." 

"  I  know  you  would,  for  you  are  honorable,  noble,  and 
generous ;  but  I  do  not  need  it  now,  and  it  was  wrong  in 
me  to  ask  it.  And  now,"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  "give 
me  your  hands." 

Harley  and  Viola  complied  with  his  request,  each  plac- 
ing a  hand  in  one  of  his.     He  with  an  effort  joined  them, 

"  Suffer  me  to  make  one  request  more,"  he  said. 

"Name  it,"  returned  Harley. 

"  That  you  will  permit  this  gentleman  (glancing  at  the 
divine)  to  perform  the  sacred  ceremony  of  marriage  in  my 
presence,  that  I  may  see  you  united  ere  I  go." 

"  It  accords  with  my  own  desire — shall  it  be  so,  dear 
Viola?"  said  Harley,  in  a  low  tone. 

She  drooped  her  head,  and  murmured  something  only 
caught  by  her  lover's  ear. 


CONCLUSION.  223 


«  Will  you  fulfill  the  request  of  Mr.  St.  Auburn  ?"  said 
Harley  to  the  divine. 

The  latter  nodded  assent ;  and  after  a  brief  but  appro- 
priate prayer,  proceeded  with  the  ceremony,  which  made 
them  one  by  the  most  sacred  of  earthly  ties. 

It  was  solemn,  very,  very  solemn,  and  deeply  impressive, 
to  witness  a  wedding  by  a  bed  of  death — to  see  the  living 
so  strangely  grouped  around  the  dying — to  behold  that 
pair  in  the  bloom  of  life,  taking  upon  them  those  holy 
vows,  in  the  presence  of  one  whose  spirit  was  about  to 
wing  its  flight  to  the  other  world,  as  if  to  bear  the  intelli- 
gence into  the  awful  realm  of  eternity.  It  was  solemn — 
sadly,  mournfully  solemn — and  left  an  impression  upon  the 
minds  of  all  present  that  time  could  never  erase. 

When  the  last  words  of  the  ceremony  had  been  said,  a 
deep  silence  followed,  broken  only  by  the  quick,  heavy 
respirations  of  the  sufferer.  Then  with  an  effort  he  ex- 
tended a  hand  to  the  newly  wedded  pair,  and  said,  in  a 
voice  husky  with  conflicting  emotions : 

"  May  you  live  long  and  be  happy !  I  somehow  feel  that 
you  have  forgiven  me,  and  I  can  die  more  contentedly. 
Go,  now,  my  friends — go  all — I  would  be  alone  with  this 
man  of  God.     Farewell !" 

Morton  and  Yiola  each  took  his  hand,  gave  it  a  farewell 
pressure,  and  retired  in  silence,  deeply  affected  with  the 
parting  scene.  I  followed  the  example,  and  a  minute  later 
the  room  was  cleared  of  all  save  the  sufferer  and  the 
divine. 

The  surgeon  now  attended  to  dressing  my  wounds ;  and 
being  greatly  fatigued  by  my  recent  exertions  and  excite- 
ment, and  weak  from  loss  of  blood,  I  retired  for  the  night. 
I  soon  fell  into  a  calm,  refreshing  sleep  ;  and  when  I  awoke, 
tne  cloudlesss  sun  of  another  day  was  streaming  into  my 
chamber.     The  dark  night  of  strife,  and  blood,  and  storm, 


224  VIOLA. 


was  past,  and  all  nature  was  smiling  as  sweetly  as  if  such 
things  had  never  been. 

I  arose  with  some  difficulty,  for  I  was  far  from  feeling 
well  and  strong ;  but  my  wounds  proving  rather  painful,  I 
returned  into  bed.  In  a  few  minutes  Harley  entered  my 
apartment,  looking  pale  and  serious. 

"Well,  what  of  St.  Auburn?"  was  my  first  question. 

"  He  is  at  rest,"  he  replied,  solemnly.  "  A  little  before 
day-light  his  spirit  took  leave  of  its  mortal  tenement,  and 
is  now  with  its  Maker.  He  died  calmly ;  and  the  reverend 
gentleman,  who  was  with  him  in  his  last  moments,  was  led 
to  believe  that  he  had  made  his  peace  with  God." 

"And  Viola?"  I  inquired,  after  a  pause. 

"  She  is  as  well  as  can  be  expected  after  such  a  night  of 
excitement,  fatigue,  and  alarm.  But  you,  Harry — how  do 
you  find  yourself  this  morning  ?" 

"Not  so  well  as  I  had  hoped." 

"  Ah  !  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.     Do  you  feel  ill  ?" 

"  I  feel  bruised  and  lame,  and  am  in  some  pain.  But 
give  ypurself  no  alarm,  Morton — it  is  nothing  very  seri- 
ous. If  my  wounds  were  dressed  again,  I  think  I  should 
be  able  to  be  about." 

"I  will  send  the  surgeon  to  you  at  once." 

Harley  went  out,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  doctor  made 
his  appearance.  An  hour  later  I  found  myself  able  to  get 
down  stairs,  though  advised  by  tbe  physician  to  keep  my- 
self quiet  for  a  day  or  two  at  least.  As  I  had  anticipated, 
the  events  of  the  night  had  caused  quite  a  commotion  in 
the  village,  and  the  inn  was  thronged  all  day  with  visi- 
tors. Every  thing,  however,  passed  ofi"  without  further 
disturbance ;  and  the  day  following  we  consigned  to  earth 
the  mortal  remains  of  Henry  St.  Auburn — his  body  being 
accompanied  to  its  last  resting  place  by  a  large  number  of 
citizens. 


CONCLUSION.  225 


Early  on  the  third  morning  we  set  out  for  Galveston, 
travelling  slovr,  by  a  four-wheeled  conveyance.   We  reached 
ovr  destination  before  nightfall,  without  the  occurrence  v. 
my  incident  worthy  of  note. 

It  was  the  intention  of  my  friend  to  proceed  at  once  to 
Kew  Orleans  with  his  bride,  and  have  me  accompany  them  ; 
but  not  having  fully  recovered  my  strength,  I  pleaded  indis- 
position, and  finally  persuaded  him  to  leave  me  behind.  The 
truth  was,  reader,  I  had  resolved  to  see  Clara  Moreland, 
once  more  at  least,  before  leaving  the  country;  but  this 
was  a  secret  which  I  did  not  even  disclose  to  Harley,  though 
I  somehow  fancied  he  more  than  suspected  it. 

Viola  having  repeatedly  urged  me  to  accompany  them, 
finally  took  leave  of  me,  with  tearful  eyes,  but  looking 
more  sweet  and  beautiful  than  ever. 

"  Harry,"  said  Harley,  as  he  held  my  hand  at  parting, 
"  we  both  owe  you  a  heavy  debt  of  gratitude,  which,  if  we 
live,  must  be  repaid,  in  one  way  or  another.  But,  at  all 
events,  if  you  will  not  go  with  us,  I  must  see  you  again 
shortly.  As  soon  as  the  articles  we  are  in  quest  of  are  in 
our  possession,  we  will  return  to  this  place,  and  then  you 
must  accompany  us  to  the  city  of  Mexico,  to  the  home  of 
Viola." 

"  I  will  take  the  matter  into  consideration,"  I  replied. 

"  Nay,  it  must  be  so — 1  will  taue  no  denial,"  he  rejoined, 
earnestly.     "  There — God  bless  you  !     Adieu." 

******* 

And  here,  kind  reader,  we  must  also  part,  at  least  for  a 
season ;  for  here  terminates  that  portion  of  my  narrative 
which  I  have  thought  proper  to  record  under  the  title  of 
"Viola."  If  I  come  before  you  again,  it  will  be  in  new 
scenes,  and  with  new  actors — though  all  that  I  have  intro- 
duced upon  the  stage,  must  again  appear,  ere  the  curtain 
falls  upon  the  close  of  my  drama  of  life.     It  has  been  my 

19* 


226  VIOLA. 


fortune,  in  a  brief  period  of  time,  to  pass  through  many  ad* 
ventures — some  pleasing,  and  some  vexatious — some  trying, 
and  some  thrilling — and  some  perilous  in  the  extreme. — A 
portion  of  these — a  small  portion,  it  is  true — are  before 
you :  those  untold,  I  flatter  myself,  are  not  less  interesting. 
Shall  I  go  on  ?  or  will  you  rest  satisfied  with  what  you  have 
seen  ?  It  is  for  you  to  decide,  and  for  me  to  abide  by  your 
decision. 


Publisher's  Note. — Having  thus  brought  "Yiola"  to 
an  end,  we  have  just  issued  the  sequel  and  conclusion  to 
it,  under  the  title  of  "  Clara  Moreland^''  which  is  of  far 
more   interest   than  the   foregoing. 


TBB  XVI>. 


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framing— size  27  inches  by  -20— "WASHINGTON  PARTING  FROM  HIS  GENERALS,' 
after  a  drawing  by  F.  0.  Darley.  This  is  the  most  superb  Premium  ever  offered.  Or, 
if  preferred,  we  will  send  for  the  Premium,  a  LADY'S  ALBUM,  illustrated,  and  hand- 
somely bound  and  gilt.  Or  if  preferred  to  either  of  these,  we  will  send,  as  a  Premium, 
an  extra  copy  of  the  Magazine  for  18o5.  For  clubs  of  two  or  four,  no  premiums  are  given,  ; 
Always  say,  in  remitting  for  a  club  of  eight,  or  a  club  of  fourteen,  which  of  the  Pre- ; 
miums  is  preferred.  j 

Address, post^id,         CHARLES  J.  PETERSON, 

No.  306  Chestnut  St.,  Phila 
JS^  All  Postmasters  constituted  Agents ;  but  any  person  may  get  up  a  club.    Speci 
mens  sent  gratuitously  if  written  for. 


ciiumT  ME  urn  m  iii[  miD. 

To  Sutlers!  Pedlars!  Booksellers!  News  Agents!  etc. 

T.    B.     PETERSON    &.    BROTHERS, 

No.  306  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia, 

PUBLISH  THE  MOST  SALEABLE  BOOKS  IN  THE  WOF.LD 

AND  StIPPLY  ALL  BOOKS  AT  VERY  LOW  RATES. 

The  Cheapest  place  in  the  world  to  buy  or  send  for  a  stock  of  all 
kinds  of  Books,  suitdble  for  all  persons  whatever,  for  Soldiers,  and  for 
the  Army,  and  for  all  other  reading,  is  at  the  Bookselling  and  Pub- 
lishing House  of  T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS,  Philadelphia. 

Any  person  wanting  any  books  at  all,  in  atiy  quantity,  from  a  single 
book  to  a  dozen,  a  hunared,  thousand,  ten  thousand,  or  larger  quantity 
0^  books,  had  better  sena  on  their  orders  at  once  to  the  "  CHEAP- 
FST  BOOKSELLING  AND  PUBLISHING  HOUSE  IN  THE 
WOULD,"  whik  is  at  T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS,  No.  306 
chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia,  who  have  the  largest  stock  in  the  coiiu 
t'7  and  will  supply  them  and  sell  them  cheaper  than  any  other  house 
in  the  world.  We  publish  a  large  variety  of  Military  Novels,  with 
Illustrated  Military  covers,  in  colors,  besides  thousands  of  others,  all 
of  which  are  the  best  selling  and  most  popular  books  in  the  world. 
We  have  just  issued  a  new  and  complete  Catalogue,  copies  of  which 
we  will  send  gratuitously  to  all  on  their  sending  for  one. 

Enclose  one,  two,  five,  ten,  twenty,  fifty,  a  hundred,  or  a  thousand 
dollars,  or  more,  to  us  in  a  letter,  or  per  express,  and  write  what  kind 
of  books  you  wish,  and  they  will  be  packed  and  sent  to  you  at  once,  per 
first  express  or  mail,  or  in  any  other  way  you  may  direct,  just  as  well 
assorted,  and  the  same  as  if  you  were  on  the  spot,  with  circulars,  show 
Oills,  &c.,  gratis.     All  we  ask  is  to  give  us  a  trial. 

Address  all  orders  for  any  books  you  may  want  at  all,  no  matter  by 
whom  published,  or  how  small  or  how  large  your  order  may  be,  to  the 
(yieapest  Publishing  and  Bookselling  House  in  the  world,  which  is  at 

T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS, 

No.  306  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelpnia,  ^ 

And  xhey  will  be  packed  and  sent  to  you  within  an  hour  after  receipt 

>f  the  order,  per  express  or  railroad,  or  in  any  other  way  you  may  direct. 


Agents,  Sutlers,  and  Pedlars  wanted  everywhere,  to  engage  in.tlif 
8al«  of  our  popular  selling  Books,  all  of  which  will  be  sold  at  very  low  rate* 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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m  3 1 1956 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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